Innocent
by Red Hardy
Summary: In the sequel to Guilty, Joe Hardy has been arrested and charged with murder. If he cannot convince Frank and Fenton of his innocence and enlist their help in proving it, he could be facing the death penalty.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the second part of a two-part story. The first part, _Guilty_, is posted on the 'M' rating page for one scene at the very end of chapter 10. It is not graphic in any way and I probably could have gotten away with a 'T' rating, but in keeping with the rules set forth on this site I chose to err on the side of caution and rate the story 'M' for the subject matter. The scene can be skipped (it begins with Vanessa waiting at the bus stop and runs through the end of that chapter) and you'll still be able to follow the story. However if you don't read that story, Joe's back story in _this_ one won't make much sense.

Again, I apologize for the multiple POV changed. This was written before I knew any better. :-/

Thanks to everyone who read _Guilty_. I hope you enjoy the second half of the story.

Gotta give a heads up to my sometime writing partner, Cherylann Rivers, who has just posted her first story Hardy Boys on this site and it is AWESOME! Go check out Fire and Ice – you will LOVE it! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did would be independently wealthy instead of working for a living.

**Innocent**

**Chapter 1**

Twenty-three year old Joe Hardy was led to a police cruiser and placed in the backseat. A Bayport police officer leaned in and fastened Joe's seat belt, then spoke briefly with Detective Con Riley before getting behind the wheel. As the car pulled away, Joe looked out the window at his brother, Frank. With both his brother and father, Fenton Hardy, believing he had just murdered a man in cold blood, he had no idea where to turn for help. He would be allowed one phone call when he got to the police station.

'_Who do I call? The family lawyer? Mom? Vanessa?'_

He knew he needed to call their lawyer first, but he also wanted to talk to his fiancée, Vanessa Bender, as soon as possible. He did not want anyone else trying to explain to her what had just happened. Leaning his head back against the seat, Joe felt tears sting his eyes. He thought back to the night Vanessa's Jeep broke down.

'_Why did I wait so long to ask her what happened? If only I had asked her right then…we could have gotten his fingerprints. It would have been over. She never would have been…'_ A few tears slid down his cheeks. _'None of this ever would have happened. This is all my fault.'_

Joe opened his eyes and stared at the wire screen separating the front and back seats. He could not believe that three short weeks ago his biggest worry had been where to go on his honeymoon.

oooOOOooo

Frank Hardy had watched in disbelief as his younger brother was handcuffed and placed in the back of a police cruiser.

'_Murder? Joe?!'_ Three weeks ago he would have thought it impossible. Even now he had trouble believing it, despite what he had seen with his own eyes. Had Joe's hell bent need for revenge really driven him to murder Vanessa's rapist?

"_I didn't kill him, Frank! I didn't!"_ Frank kept hearing Joe's anguished voice in his head. Could it have happened the way Joe said it did?

'_But I know what I saw. Why would the guy kill himself? There was no guarantee he would even be found guilty. It doesn't make any sense. Joe must have killed him…'_

Frank could still see the look on Joe's face as he was being handcuffed and read his rights. He had been devastated by what he considered yet another betrayal by Frank.

'_He's always counted on me. I've always been there for him.'_ He felt a cold emptiness in the pit of his stomach. _'What's happening to us? How could we have grown so far apart in such a short time?'_

"Frank." He felt his father's hand on his shoulder. "We need to get down to the station."

"Dad, did he really do it?" Frank asked.

"I don't want to believe it either, but I know what I saw."

Frank had been hoping his father had come up with something – anything – to explain what they had both witnessed. He didn't want to believe his younger brother had killed someone in cold blood, no matter what the circumstances.

"_Could_ it have happened the way Joe said it did?"

Before Fenton could respond, Con Riley and Police Chief Ezra Collig approached.

"I'm sorry," Con addressed them both. "I had no choice." He held his hands out apologetically and shrugged his shoulders.

Fenton simply nodded. His eyes followed the Medical Examiner who had arrived a few moments earlier and was slowly circling the body. Every so often she would bend down to get a closer look at the body or something on the ground that caught her eye.

"Where's the murder weapon?" she called out, causing Frank to wince. An officer dutifully produced the paper bag containing Joe's gun. With gloved hands she looked inside, giving it a cursory glance. "And the suspect?"

'_He's not a suspect!'_ Frank wanted to scream. _'He's my brother!'_

"He's already been read his rights and taken to the station," the officer who had supplied Joe's gun replied

"I see." She looked around at everyone who was milling about, her eyes stopping on Con. "Detective, would you like to tell me exactly what happened here?"

Fenton took Frank by the arm and steered him towards the car. "They can take care of this without us. I want to get down to the station before they start questioning Joe. I don't want him to say anything without a lawyer present." He thought about Joe's hair trigger temper and shuddered at what he might say if provoked.

They drove in silence for a while before Frank spoke. "Should we call Mom? Or Vanessa?"

"No. We don't really know what to tell them yet."

Frank turned to look at his father. "Joe's been arrested for murder. We both saw him do it."

"I know but I want to talk to him first. Maybe there was something else. Something we didn't see that could prove his innocence."

Frank nodded, suddenly hopeful. _'Maybe there __was__ something else. Something we couldn't see…'_ Every last trace of hope disappeared when he realized what that really meant.

"Dad," his voice shook. "Do you understand what that means?"

Fenton looked questioningly at his son.

"His word isn't enough for us anymore," he whispered. "Now we need proof to believe him."

oooOOOooo

After arriving at the police station, Joe was led into the booking room. His pockets were emptied, the contents recorded and placed in a plain, manila envelope. He was then fingerprinted and had mug shots taken. His blood-stained shirt and jacket were confiscated as evidence. After being searched, he was allowed to change into a Bayport Police Department T-shirt and led to an interrogation room.

"You can make one call." The young officer pointed to the phone on the wall and took a seat at the table.

Joe picked up the phone and punched in a number. It rang three times before someone answered.

"Sam Radley."

"Sam, it's Joe. I need help…"


	2. Chapter 2

Shinigamixgirl: It was supposed to appear that Joe, being bigger than Taylor, completely blocked everyone else's view of what was happening. They could see fringes, but no one ever got a totally clear view of any of it. Guess I didn't write that as well as I thought! LOL! Hope that clears up any confusion.

Alicia: As always, thanks for your enthusiasm! LOL! Yes, Sam will be there for Joe (I LOVE Sam and think he is sorely underused!) and yes, Joe still has to remember. ;-)

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 2**

Sam Radley sat staring blankly at the television screen in his living room. He had just gotten off the phone with Joe Hardy and was still stunned by what he had heard. He shook his head as if that would make the unwanted information disappear.

While Sam had been heavily involved in the investigation of the serial rapist, another case had suddenly heated up requiring Sam's full attention as the Hardys were devoting all their time to finding Chris Taylor. He had not been involved in the search for Taylor that evening and had no idea what had gone on.

'_Joe? Charged with murder? Frank and Fenton actually believe he did it?'_

He knew Frank, Fenton and Joe had been having problems recently. He knew Fenton had been deeply concerned about Joe ever since Vanessa had been raped, especially since he had started having flashbacks to that horrible weekend so many years ago. Apparently things had gotten so bad between the three of them that when Joe had been arrested, he felt the only person he could turn to for help was Sam.

'_Fenton, old buddy, I hope you understand…' _

Joe had asked Sam to call Andrew Worth, the family lawyer, and meet him at the police station. He had told Sam he would explain everything in detail then. Knowing he would be spending at least that night in jail, Joe had asked Sam if once they were finished, would he please go see Vanessa and explain to her exactly what had happened. Sam had asked if he wouldn't prefer Frank or his father talk to her and that was when he dropped the bomb – Frank and Fenton had been there and witnessed everything. They both automatically assumed Joe had murdered Vanessa's rapist. When Joe tried to explain to them what had really happened, neither one believed him. He did not want them anywhere near Vanessa.

Sam went into his office and flipped through his address book. Locating the number he wanted, he dialed and waited for an answer.

"Andy? Sam Radley. You had better sit down. Joe Hardy has been arrested…for murder."

…

Thirty minutes later, Sam pulled up in front of the Bayport Police Station. As he hurried up the front steps, he heard his name being called. He stopped and waited for Andrew Worth, the Hardys lawyer, to join him. With light brown hair and intense blue eyes, Andrew was just an inch or so shorter than Sam. Even though Andrew was dressed casually this evening, having hurried out the minute he got Sam's call, he still exuded the air of a consummate professional.

"Can you tell me anything else, Sam?" Andrew asked as they walked through the front doors of the station.

"You know as much as I do," Sam replied.

"Do you know if Fenton is here?"

"I haven't seen him but I assume so. No matter what he thinks, I don't believe for one second he would let Joe go through this alone."

Stopping at the front desk, Sam smiled at the red headed officer.

"Hi, Carrie. This is Andrew Worth, Joe Hardy's lawyer. Can we see him?"

"I can't believe it!" the young officer leaned forward over the desk, whispering conspiratorially. "It's all over the station! Whether Joe did it or not, I have to say I'm just glad the guy is dead!"

Realizing how unprofessional she sounded, she picked up the phone and pressed a button, continuing in a much more subdued manner. "Personally, I think Joe deserves a medal."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sam and Andrew exchanged a smile.

"Okay, you can go on down," she smiled cheerfully. "Tell him we're all pulling for him."

"We will," Sam replied as they headed for the elevator. Stepping on and pressing the button to take them to the basement, he looked at Andrew. Raising his eyebrows he shook his head. "A medal?"

Moments later they were escorted to Joe's cell. Sam stopped and looked at the young man he had watched grow up. He and his wife had never had children, focusing instead on their careers. He had often thought of Frank and Joe as surrogate sons. It broke his heart to see Joe sitting on the small cot with his knees pulled up to his chest. He had rested his arms across his knees and his blond head was bowed, resting on his arms.

"Joe," he said softly.

When Joe looked up, Sam was struck by how totally exhausted he looked.

'_First the flashbacks, then Vanessa is raped and now this. When will it end?'_

"Thanks for coming, Sam. Hi, Mr. Worth. Sorry I interrupted your evening."

A guard opened the cell door, allowing Sam and Andrew to step inside.

"No apologies necessary, Joe. Glad to help." Not wasting any time, Andrew sat on the edge of the cot. "From the beginning, tell me exactly what happened, in detail." Pulling out a yellow legal pad, a pen and a small tape recorder, he began taking notes. Joe retold the evening's events, starting with the gathering in the briefing room of the Bayport Police Station several hours earlier.

oooOOOooo

Arriving at the police station, Frank and Fenton quickly entered and approached the front desk. Chief Collig's long time administrative assistant stopped them before they reached their destination.

"Mr. Hardy? Chief called and said you'd be arriving soon. He asked me to escort you to one of the interrogation rooms. He'll be here shortly."

"Thank you, Helen," Fenton replied as he and Frank followed the older woman down the hall. She stopped in front a of door and opened it, turning on the lights. "There's water on the table," she pointed indicating the recently filled water pitchers and glasses on the conference table. "Can I get you some coffee, or something else to drink?"

"Nothing for me, thanks," Fenton replied. "Frank?"

Frank looked at the woman and smiled. _'Kinda reminds me of Grandma,' _he thought. "No thank you. I'm fine."

"Just buzz if you need anything." She pointed to a button on the phone and disappeared out the door.

Taking seats at the long table, they waited only moments before Chief Collig arrived with Con Riley right behind him. Collig, who always appeared totally in control no matter what the situation, seemed a bit flustered.

"Ezra, are you all right?" Fenton asked a little concerned.

"I'm fine, Fenton. While we were talking with the M.E. I got a call. Seems someone leaked Joe's arrest to the D.A.'s office a little prematurely. Edward Bennett, the Assistant District Attorney, is on his way over here right now."

"Edward Bennett?" Frank asked narrowing his eyes.

"Do you know him?"

"I knew his brother. He was a junior at Bayport High when I was a freshman. Edward had already graduated and was studying pre-law in college. When Joe started at Bayport High, Edward really hated…" he was cut off by an impeccably well-dressed young man in his early thirties who had just entered the room.

"Frank Hardy. Good to see you again," he said without a trace of sincerity. He placed a briefcase on the table and opened it up, pulling out a legal pad. "Edward Bennett, Assistant District Attorney," he said extending his hand to Fenton.

"Mr. Bennett," Fenton said warily. He had taken an immediate dislike to the man.

Bennett turned to Chief Collig. "Shall we get started?"

"Joe and his attorney aren't even here," Collig said evenly.

"This is just a formality; they don't need to be present," he replied coldly. "I'm really only here to inform you of what's already taken place…as a courtesy to Mr. Hardy." He nodded at Fenton as if he were doing him a great favor.

Bennett seated himself on the opposite side of the table and picked up the legal pad he had removed from his briefcase. He consulted the notes for a moment and then looked up.

"Joe Hardy is being charged with first degree murder."

A chorus of gasps echoed through the room.

"First degree murder?" Frank cried out. "That carries the death penalty!"

Edward Bennett looked him in the eye. "Yes…it does."

Fenton could swear he saw just the hint of a smile on Bennett's face.

"I've already ordered his transfer to the county jail," the ambitious young man continued. "Department of Corrections will be here to pick him up within the hour."

"What?!" Frank yelled. "You can't do that!"

"That's where all alleged murderers await trial," he replied calmly.

"Are you insane?" Fenton growled at him. He thought about his youngest son's head turning good looks. "You know what they'll do to him in there. He's had a hand in putting away many of those men. They'll jump at the chance to get revenge."

He also realized that Joe being sent to the county jail, and the horrors that would very well await him there, would virtually guarantee his remembering the harrowing weekend he had spent at the hands of Josh Tilghman as a little boy. Fenton could not allow that to happen.

"I am sorry, Mr. Hardy," he said somewhat sincerely. "But he will be in solitary confinement," he added as if that would make it all right. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"You know they'll still get to him. And when they're done with him, they'll kill him…if he isn't dead already."

Frank felt ill at the realization of exactly what his father meant.

Ezra Collig stood up and leaned across the table. "Perhaps we should call your superior and get his opinion on all this," he said in a very low voice. The ADA seemed to visibly shrink back under the Chief's withering gaze. "I'm quite sure he won't appreciate being interrupted on his vacation."

"It's just that…I don't want to…" Bennett stammered. "Look this is going to be a huge case with a lot of publicity! It cannot appear that he got any special treatment just because he's Fenton Hardy's son!"

"Publicity?!" Frank's eyes widened in shock. He lunged across the table at the arrogant young man. "You son of a bitch!"

Both Con and Fenton jumped up, grabbing Frank before he could reach the startled man.

"Frank, don't! You're not helping Joe!" Fenton said attempting to restrain his son.

"You don't even know what happened! You haven't done one interview! You just want him convicted so you can make a name for yourself!" Frank continued to struggle, trying to break free. _'Just let me get my hands on that little twit!'_

"You know you're absolutely right!" Bennett sneered. "I haven't even started interviewing witnesses yet." He angrily flipped to a clean page on his legal pad. "Why don't I start with _you_?" he taunted Frank. "Tell me, what exactly did you see tonight?"

With a murderous look, Frank pulled an arm free. Dragging Con and his father across the table with him, he grabbed Bennett by the front of his shirt, lifting him out of the chair.

"ENOUGH!!" Collig bellowed. He slammed his fist on the table causing the water glasses to jump.

"Get him under control!" he yelled at Con and Fenton who dragged Frank back to his seat. Turning to the ADA, he pointed a finger at him. "Joe Hardy will spend the night in our holding cell."

"But you can't…"

This time it was Chief Collig who came across the table at him.

"This is my station. I will not have a wet behind the ears, brown nosing D.A. wannabe tell me what I can and cannot do. Joe will remain here until I decide to release him. Is that clear, Mr. Bennett?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Now get out."

"I'm not done here."

"You most certainly are," Collig growled at him, pressing a button on the phone. Almost immediately a uniformed officer appeared. "Escort ADA Bennett out of the building. Make sure he gets in his car and leaves."

With a look of hatred directed squarely at Frank, Edward Bennett snapped his briefcase shut and left. Frank continued to glare at the door even after Bennett had disappeared through it.

"Okay, Frank, what was that all about?" Fenton asked. "I know it's a big case but he seems to be taking it…personally."

'_He cannot possibly still hold a grudge against Joe. That's ludicrous!'_ Frank thought.

"Frank?" his father prodded him. "Did he have some kind of run in with Joe?"

"Not him; his younger brother. He was a second string running back on the Bayport High football team up through his junior year. He figured he had a lock on the starting position his senior year since Jason Lyons was graduating." They all recognized the name of the former Bayport High football star that was now the number one running back in the NFL.

"He was counting on a football scholarship to one of the big football colleges. He was convinced he could make it in the NFL if he just got the exposure. His family didn't have a lot of money what with Edward in law school. He couldn't make it without the scholarship money."

Fenton threw Con a confused look, who responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

Frank looked at his father. "That was Joe's freshman year at Bayport High."

"Joe was named starting running back his freshman year," Fenton recalled, the full meaning of that statement dawning on him. "So Bennett and his brother hold Joe responsible for his missing out on an NFL career?

"That's just it. Gary _doesn't_ hold a grudge. Not anymore. In fact, he says Joe being named starter that year turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him. He was forced to change his career plans. He ended up going to Bayport Community College and majoring in Sports Journalism."

"Wait a minute." Con appeared to be trying to retrieve some errant piece of information from his memory. "Gary Bennett. Isn't he an anchor on ESPN's _Sports Center_?"

"Not just any anchor. The most _popular_ anchor on the network. Joe and I ran into him last year when he was home for the holidays. He said initially he hated Joe and blamed him for what happened. After he got the deal with ESPN he decided if not for Joe getting that starting spot, he would have ended up as an obscure third or fourth stringer in the NFL – if he even made it that far. He ended up thanking Joe. I can't believe Edward Bennett would still hold a grudge against him for that."

"Apparently he does. And if he's going for the death penalty, it's a pretty big one."

"Fenton, can I talk to you for a moment," a familiar voice asked from the doorway.

They all turned to see Sam Radley standing there, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Fenton started to get up when Chief Collig spoke

"Con and I will be back shortly," he said, realizing Sam wanted to speak with Fenton privately. "We have some paperwork to fill out." Con followed his boss out the door closing it behind him.

"Sam, what are you doing here? How did you know?" Fenton asked, bewildered.

He took a deep breath. "Joe called me."

All the color drained from Fenton's face. "What? He called you? Why?" It had never occurred to him that Joe would think Fenton would desert him. He then realized the extent to which Joe felt he could no longer trust his father.

Sam sat down across from his friend. "Fenton, do you honestly believe Joe could commit murder?" he asked gently.

Fenton closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Opening them, he returned Sam's steady gaze.

"You weren't there, Sam. You didn't see it. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't believe it either. But I did." He sounded as if he wished he hadn't witnessed the disturbing event first hand.

"You're right. I didn't see it. But I just sat and listened while Joe told Andrew what happened…"

"Andrew is here too?" Fenton didn't know how many more surprises he could take that night. "But I wasn't even able to get through to him. I had to leave a message." Then it dawned on him. "_You_ called Andrew."

"Fenton, I'm sorry. I felt like I was going behind your back but Joe begged me not to call you. I thought you'd want me to take care of him first and foremost."

Fenton shook his head sadly. "I do, Sam. Thank you for being there for him. Apparently he doesn't think I will."

"Fenton, he's confused and scared. He doesn't know where to turn or who to trust." Sam didn't want to ask again, but he needed to know the answer, for himself. "You didn't answer me. Do you really think Joe murdered Taylor?"

Fenton suddenly looked much older than his years. "Joe's back was to us so our view was partially blocked, but…I know what Joe says happened. But, Sam it just doesn't make any sense. You've seen Joe these past few weeks. How many times has he said he would kill this guy if he got even half a chance?"

Listening to the exchange between Sam and his father, Frank's heart sank.

'_He __has__ been threatening to kill Taylor. How many people have heard him say that?'_

Frank thought of the growing number of witnesses Edward Bennett could call who would testify they heard Joe threaten to kill Vanessa's rapist.

"Frank, what about you?" Sam asked, bringing Frank out of his depressing thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Do you think Joe killed him?"

"I…I…" Frank stammered. "I don't want to believe he could do that, Sam. But…like Dad said, you weren't there. You didn't see it." He was saved by the simultaneous ringing of his cell phone and the door opening to reveal Joe Hardy and Andrew Worth.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and reviewing! You make me smile! :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 3**

'_Come on, Joe, where are you?'_ Vanessa Bender thought, frowning. This was the fourth time in the last two hours that she had tried to reach her fiancé with no success.

"Damn," she said softly, returning the phone to its cradle. She resumed pacing back and forth across her living room.

"Honey, why don't you sit down? I'm exhausted just watching you," Andrea Bender asked her daughter.

"I'm sorry, Mom, I can't. Something is wrong. I can feel it." Vanessa hugged herself staring out the window into the darkness. Turning, she caught a glimpse of the worried look on Laura Hardy's face. "I'm sorry," she smiled weakly. "I guess I'm just antsy. We haven't been apart for this long since before…" her voice trailed off.

"Why don't I try Frank?" Callie offered. She picked up the phone Vanessa had just discarded and dialed Frank's cell phone.

"_Hello?" _

She smiled with relief at the sound of his voice. "Frank, where are you?"

Vanessa rushed to her side, clutching her arm. "Where's Joe?" she whispered. "Is he with Frank?"

"_I, uh, I'm at the police station." _

Something in the sound of his voice made Callie nervous. "So, it's over then? You caught him?"

Vanessa tugged on her arm again. "What about Joe?" she repeated.

"_Yeah, it's over."_

Callie definitely did not like the sound of his voice. Something had gone wrong. "Is Joe with you? Vanessa has been trying to reach him for two hours. He's not answering."

"_Um, yeah he's here." _

"Can you put him on? Vanessa won't be convinced he's all right until she talks to him."

"_Actually, I can't do that. He's not exactly with me." _

Callie's heart sank. Her first instinct was correct; something had gone wrong. Laura and Andrea were now on their feet, standing next to Vanessa, all three watching Callie expectantly. She turned away from them and lowered her voice.

"He's there but he's not there? He's with you but he's not with you? Frank, what's going on?" she whispered.

"_Callie, please…don't ask me any more questions,"_ Frank pleaded. She heard some noises in the background and then Fenton Hardy's voice. _"Joe. Are you all right?"_

"_I gotta go, Cal. I'll call you later,"_ Frank said hurriedly and she was left listening to a dial tone.

She turned and looked at the three women staring at her. "He said they are at the station and Joe is with them," she said attempting a smile.

"Why didn't you let me talk to him?" Vanessa demanded angrily.

"I'm sorry, Van. He said they had to go."

…

Years of living with three detectives had sharpened Laura Hardy's intuition to the point where she was rarely wrong. Without a word, she grabbed her jacket and purse and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Callie asked.

"To find out what happened to my son," she replied over her shoulder.

"I'm coming with you." Vanessa grabbed her jacket and ran to catch up.

Andrea looked at Callie, shrugged her shoulders, and followed her daughter.

"Wait for me," Callie called, slamming the door behind her.

oooOOOooo

Fenton stood up as Andrew and Joe came into the room, followed by Con and Ezra.

"Joe. Are you alright?" Fenton asked, obviously concerned.

Joe nodded as they all took seats around the table. Joe purposely chose to sit between Andrew and Sam, across from his father and brother, rather than next to them. Andrew looked at Joe, who nodded again.

"You can go ahead and start the questioning," Andrew said to Chief Collig. Turning on a small tape recorder, Ezra Collig and Con Riley began to question Joe about the events that had taken place over the previous four hours.

When they finished, Fenton looked across the table at his youngest son. "Joe, isn't there anything else you can tell us? Maybe something we didn't see that can prove your innocence?"

Joe fixed him with a gaze; his piercing blue eyes filled with disappointment, disillusionment and overwhelming hurt.

"You never needed proof before," Joe replied staring at his father. "My word was always good enough."

There was an audible gasp. The temperature in the room felt as if it had suddenly dropped, as father and son continued staring at each other. They both felt the gulf between them widening by the minute.

"And, no, there's no further proof," Joe overemphasized the last word. "I told you what happened. I'm sorry if that's not good enough for you anymore. It always used to be."

'_What's happening to us?'_ Fenton had never felt such sadness. _'Doesn't he know how much I love him? I would do anything for him…' _He swallowed hard as a small voice in his head taunted. _'Anything except believe him.' _

"Joe, the D.A. is not going to take your word for it."

Hearing Frank's voice, Fenton knew he was just trying to help. _'Frank, stop. You'll just provoke him into…'_

"The DA?! Oh please, Frank." Joe's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You're the one who needs the proof."

The other four men in the room were growing increasingly uncomfortable at the war of words. Joe was clearly very hurt at what he felt was his family's betrayal. He had put up a wall to protect himself and was using words to dispense as much hurt as he felt he was receiving.

"I'll explain it again. Try listening this time." Joe was putting up an angry front but it was obvious he desperately wanted his father and brother to believe him – without any proof. "I got control of the gun. I told him to put his hands on his head, turn around and kneel on the ground. You all heard me." He looked around the room for validation and was rewarded with a simultaneous nodding of heads.

"He started to lift his arms, to put his hands on his head, then he grabbed my hands with both of his." Joe lifted his hands to demonstrate. "He pressed down on my finger…" His voice started to tremble as he relived that horrible moment. "…and the gun went off." Joe's gaze swept everyone in the room.

"He killed himself. He as much as told me he was going to kill himself. He said I would be going to prison for his murder. He said it had taken seventeen years but I would get what his father had intended for me all along." Joe's voice was shaking now as he looked directly at his father. "I don't have any idea what he was talking about. He said I could thank you for everything." There was an uneasy silence between Joe and Fenton. "So you choose to believe him over me?"

"Joe, I believe what I saw with my own eyes," Fenton replied quietly.

"Maybe you shouldn't believe everything you _think_ you see. And maybe you should have a little more faith in me," Joe said stonily. He then straightened his shoulders and stared at his brother.

"So, do you believe me, Frank? Do you?" Silence. "Gee, thanks for the support, bro. I guess that means you think I'm lying, too. Must be something else I learned from you."

Franks mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. He looked pleadingly at his father. _'Help me!' _

Fenton knew it was the wrong thing to say but he couldn't stand seeing his sons like this. He would rather have Joe's anger directed at him. "Joe, he was smaller than you. You couldn't stop him?"

"Dad, it was over in five seconds! It all happened so fast I didn't even have time to react. I mean who would believe he'd do something like that?!"

The silence was suffocating as Joe's words hung in the air. He had just validated everything Frank and Fenton had been saying.

"But he _did_ do it," Joe continued, trying to keep his voice steady. "It happened exactly the way I said it did whether you believe me or not. I – did not – kill him." Gritting his teeth, Joe emphasized every word, eyes flicking between his father and brother.

Turning to Con he asked, "Can I go back to my cell now? It's been a long night."

Without waiting for an answer he stood with his back to Con, obediently putting his arms behind him. After getting a nod from Chief Collig, Con handcuffed Joe and led him out of the room, into the hallway.

Fenton rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. The last three weeks had become an ongoing nightmare that his family could not wake up from. Every time he thought things could not possibly get any worse they did, and tonight was no exception. From out in the hallway he heard a commotion and raised voices.

'_Was that Laura? __Vanessa__? Oh, no…'_ Looking up he turned towards the window separating the hallway from the interrogation room and saw Vanessa suddenly run by.

…

Out in the hallway, Vanessa threw herself on Joe, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

"What's going on? Why are you handcuffed?" she asked, confused.

Immediately a uniformed officer grabbed Vanessa around the waist and attempted to pull her off Joe. Even with his arms handcuffed behind him, Joe felt Vanessa stiffen.

"No!" she cried out in a frightened voice, tightening her grip on Joe.

Instantly he knew what was happening. _'Flashback!'_ He had seen it happen too many times recently. Joe could feel Con trying to unlock the handcuffs but he was apparently having trouble. Vanessa's breathing was now coming in short gasps as the officer tightened his grip on her, increasing his efforts to disengage her from Joe.

"Get your hands off her!" Joe yelled, growing angrier by the second. She was starting to tremble as the officer pulled at her waist.

"NO! Please, not again!" Vanessa cried out clutching a handful of Joe's shirt and digging her nails into his back. Joe could hear Con cursing at the uncooperative handcuffs as Joe pulled on them to no avail.

"Frank!" Joe yelled in the direction of the interrogation room he had just vacated. "Help!"

In a blur of movement Frank came flying out of the room and tackled the officer who was holding onto Vanessa. At the same instant Joe's handcuffs suddenly popped open. He scooped a crying Vanessa up in his arms and took a few steps back, watching as Frank and the officer landed on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

Having heard the commotion, several other officers had come running down the hall. Seeing a fellow officer on the floor, tangled up with a civilian, they all drew their weapons and took aim at Frank.

"STOP!" Chief Collig bellowed, for the second time that night. Everyone froze in their tracks. The ensuing silence was broken only by an occasional whimper from Vanessa followed by Joe's soft voice.

"It's okay, Baby. It's okay. You're safe."

Collig turned to Joe first. "Take her in there," he said pointing to the now empty interrogation room.

Joe gratefully complied, taking Vanessa into the room and closing the door behind them.

Collig then stepped into the circle of officers who still had their guns trained on Frank. Knowing what the scene must look like to them, Frank hardly dared to breathe, let alone move. He saw Callie standing at the end of the hall, terrified, clinging to his mother. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, hoping that small movement wouldn't get him shot.

"Put your weapons away," Collig said with authority. The officers hesitated for just a second. "NOW!" They immediately obeyed. "Go back to what you were doing," he ordered them, reaching down to pull Frank and the officer to their feet.

Callie ran down the hall into Frank's arms. "I thought…I thought…" She began crying, unable to continue.

"Yeah, so did I for a few seconds," Frank laughed softly, hugging her.

'_When was the last time Joe asked me for help? When was the last time I helped him?'_ It had felt good, just the way it used to. Frank wanted so badly to get back to that point in their lives again.

Laura and Andrea advanced down the hall, with Andrea wordlessly opening the door to the interrogation room and going in. Laura stopped in front of her husband, blue eyes blazing. Frank looked at his mother and shivered.

'_She looks just like Joe when he's about to explode,' _he thought, not envying his father at that moment.

"What the hell is going on?" she growled at her husband. "And why is Joe in handcuffs?"

Fenton sighed wearily. _'Can't get any worse, huh?'_ He asked himself sarcastically. _'Where do I start…'_

Con watched in fascination as Fenton tried to explain to Laura just how their youngest son had ended up at the police station in handcuffs charged with murder. Chief Collig walked up behind him muttering. "I'm getting too old for this…Riley!"

Con jumped. "Yes?"

"Get him back to a cell now," Collig replied, jerking a thumb towards the closed door behind him. "That idiot Bennett was right about one thing; it can not appear as if we gave Joe _any_ special treatment. And if taking those handcuffs off him while his brother was tackling a police officer wasn't special treatment…" He slowly walked away, chuckling at the memory.

Con turned away from the developing war between Fenton and Laura Hardy and knocked on the door. He poked his head inside and saw Joe holding Vanessa's hands speaking to her quietly, while Andrea Bender listened intently. Vanessa seemed to have regained her composure, giving Con a little smile. Joe turned around. "Five more minutes…please?" he begged.

"Five minutes, Joe, not one second more."

…

As Con left, Joe turned back to Vanessa. He had just finished explaining to her what had led to her finding him handcuffed at the police station. She had been listening to him with great concentration, but as he had feared, she didn't quite get the full meaning. She had been shocked when Joe told her about the shooting. When he explained that both Frank and Fenton actually believed he pulled the trigger himself, she immediately tried to comfort him. He had been trying to make her understand he wouldn't be going home with her when Con had interrupted.

"So we can go now?" she asked, hopefully.

'_Oh, man, how can I do this to her? We haven't been apart since…' _Joe took a deep breath and tried to explain it one more time.

"Honey, I can't go home with you. I have to stay here tonight. Bail hasn't been set. They won't just let me walk out of here."

"Why can't we just ask them how much the bail is and pay it?" Vanessa was starting to panic. She _couldn't _return to their apartment alone. Not yet. It was too soon…

"The judge has to set bail. He won't be available until the morning."

"Can't your Dad pull some strings or something?" she pleaded.

'_I doubt he'd want to, even if he could,'_ Joe thought sadly. "Not this time."

As Vanessa finally allowed herself to admit Joe would be spending the night in jail, she began to cry. Joe pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"Please, don't cry, Baby. I'm sorry." _'You really did it this time, Hardy.' _

"Joe, I can't go home alone. _I can't_."

"Your Mom is here." He looked at Andrea, who nodded. "She'll spend the night with you. Tomorrow they'll set bail and I'll be back before you know it."

Joe didn't have the heart to tell her there was a very good chance there would be no bail, meaning he'd have to stay incarcerated until he was cleared…or until the trial was over, which could very well result in his being sent to prison.

"No," she said. "I need to be with _you_."

There was a knock on the door. Vanessa tightened her hold on Joe.

"One more minute, Con. _Please?"_ He called out. The door remained shut. Wondering how in the world he was going to get Vanessa to go home, an idea struck him. _'It might work…' _

"How about if you go home with my Mom tonight. You can sleep in my old room. Would that do?" he asked hopefully.

Vanessa's tears slowed. She didn't say anything, but he felt what he thought was an affirmative nod against his shoulder. Relieved he pulled back, once again taking her hands in his.

"I promise, by tomorrow night we'll be home together," he smiled. _'Please, God, don't make a liar out of me.'_

Vanessa nodded just as Con opened the door. "Joe…"

"Yeah, I'm coming." He led Vanessa out into the hall, with Andrea following close behind. Turning to Con he said, "I just need to talk to my mother for a second."

"JOE!" Con said in exasperation. "If the Chief comes back and finds you still here, he'll skin me alive!"

Joe smiled his most charming smile and shrugged his shoulders. Con rolled his eyes.

"One minute, Joe, and that's it!" He stalked across the hall and leaned against the wall, glaring at Joe.

Seeing Joe, Laura left her husband in mid-sentence and rushed over to hug her son. "Are you all right, sweetie?" she asked with concern.

"I'm fine, Mom. Really," he reassured her. "But I need a favor."

"Anything, honey. Just ask."

"Can you take Vanessa home with you tonight? Let her stay in my old room?"

"Of course." Laura reached out and squeezed Vanessa's hand. "Would you like to stay in the guest room, Andrea? You'd be closer to Vanessa."

"Thank you, Laura," Andrea replied gratefully. "I'd like that very much."

Con suddenly appeared beside Joe. "We have to go..._now_, Joe!"

"Okay, okay," Joe muttered. He turned to Vanessa and hugged her tightly. "I love you, Baby. I'll be home tomorrow. I promise."

"You better be, Joe Hardy." She returned the hug, holding back tears. "I love you." She watched as Joe retreated down the hall and into the elevator that would take him back to his cell, whispering, "I love you, Baby," one more time as the elevator doors slid closed.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone for the kind reviews!! Sorry this is a day a late _and_ for the 'group' thank you but I went to my niece's college graduation ceremony and party yesterday (an ALL DAY event!) and did a little _too much_ partying! ;-) Hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm gonna go hunt down some more aspirin now! :-p

Innocent

Chapter 4

Returning to his cell, Joe Hardy lay down on the cot and threw an arm over his eyes. Thinking over the events of the last few weeks, he felt like he was trapped in a nightmare that wouldn't end. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and needed sleep, but his mind wouldn't stop. The bizarre exchange of words between his father and Taylor had made no sense at all, yet he couldn't get it out of his head. They had obviously been talking about him.

'_If I had done what I was supposed to? If Dad hadn't been a hero? How are all these rapes my fault? Only Vanessa…'_

Tears threatened again with Joe trying to hold them back _'I am so sorry, Van. So sorry. You didn't deserve it. You don't deserve to be stuck with me.'_

Rolling onto his side, staring at the cinder block wall, he eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

_The blood-curdling scream caused the little boy to begin shaking uncontrollably. Who were these awful people? Why did they take him away from his Aunt and Uncle at the park? Hearing another scream, he closed his eyes and huddled in the corner. The floor was cold and hard. He wanted to be home in his own bed. Safe at home with his Mommy and Daddy and his big brother. They always protected him. Nothing bad ever happened when he was with them. Suddenly the door opened. The man who had taken him from the park grabbed his arm. _

"_No," the little boy whimpered. _

"_Shut up," the man said, pulling him off the floor by his arm. _

"_I want my Daddy." The little boy began to cry. "Where's my Daddy?" he cried. _

Suddenly the little boy's cheek exploded in pain as the man slapped him across the face.

"_I said shut up! Your Daddy is dead. Do you know what that means?" _

_The little boy shook his head no, trying not to make a sound. He did not want to be hit again. His Mommy and Daddy __never__ hit him. _

"It means he's gone. He's never coming back for you. You belong to us now and you better do as you're told."

"_My Daddy loves me. He'll come for me," the little boy said, tears streaming from his sad blue eyes. _

_The man pulled on his arm, dragging him closer until he was barely an inch away from the man's face. _

"_Listen to me, you little brat. Your Mommy is dead. Your Daddy is dead. They are __never__ coming back for you. You are all alone now and you belong to us. Understand?" _

_The little boy stared in terror at the man. He wasn't really sure what it meant to be dead but the man hadn't said anything about his brother. "Then Frank will come for me," he whispered._

Joe's eyes flew open. Sitting up he frantically looked around, unsure of where he was. Unconsciously he put a hand on his cheek; it almost felt like someone had slapped him. But that was impossible. He was all alone in the holding cell at the Bayport police station. Lying back down on the cot, still holding his cheek, his mind was spinning.

He had dreamt about a little boy. A little boy who had been taken from his family. He remembered screams and someone telling the little boy his parents were dead. _'You belong to us now.'_ Joe inhaled sharply. It was almost as if he could feel the terror the little boy had felt.

Afraid to close his eyes again, but completely exhausted, Joe drifted off again thinking, _'What's wrong with me? I feel like I'm losing my mind…' _

oooOOOooo

"Joe?" A voice called out, rousing the young man.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Joe saw Con Riley standing outside his cell.

"Hey, Con," he said looking at his watch. It was only six-thirty in the morning. "Are you on the early shift today?"

"I'm officially on duty at seven, but I wanted to see how you were doing this morning," Con said concerned.

"Me? I'm great," Joe joked. "The accommodations leave something to be desired, though."

"Great, huh? You look like hell. Did you sleep okay?" Con had spoken to the night guard who told him Joe had cried out in his sleep several times during the night and seemed to be very agitated.

Joe's smile wavered as he recalled the haunting dream he'd had. "As well as can be expected, considering," he replied.

Con unlocked the cell door and let himself in.

"Isn't that against regulations or something?" Joe asked.

"Nah. I'm not on duty yet. Just visiting a friend."

"Are you sure you want to be in here with me? After all, I am an alleged murderer," Joe laughed nervously.

"I'll take my chances." Con smiled and held out a bag to Joe, who looked at him quizzically. "Breakfast. Our food leaves something to be desired, too."

"Thanks," Joe said taking the bag, realizing just how hungry he was. "So have you heard anything? Do I get a bail hearing this morning?"

"I think Andrew and your Dad are working on it. Your Dad is trying to get a hold of Dennis Seevers."

"Hmph?" Joe tried to say "who", but was hampered by a mouthful of breakfast sandwich.

"The D.A.," Con laughed. "The A.D.A. was here last night and seems to have it in for you."

"Yeah, that seems going around lately. Who is it?"

"Edward Bennett."

Joe stopped chewing and swallowed hard.

"He's going to be prosecuting me?" Joe said uneasily.

"Well, that's why your Dad is trying to get in touch with Seevers. I take it Bennett isn't too fond of you?"

"That's putting it mildly!" Joe snorted. "And I never did anything to the guy! I think he suffers from that Big Brother Syndrome, just like Frank." Joe looked away blinking rapidly at the sudden burning in his eyes. He missed his brother terribly. Taking a sip of coffee and looked back at Con. "Do you think I could make a phone call?" Joe asked quietly.

"Vanessa?" Con guessed.

"Yeah," Joe replied looking at the floor. "I want to make sure she's okay. She stayed at my parents last night. It's the first time we've been apart since…well, you know."

Con patted Joe on the shoulder and turned to leave. "I'll see what I can do, Joe."

"Thanks," Joe said gratefully. "For the breakfast too."

oooOOOooo

Vanessa was curled up under the covers in Joe's old bed at his parent's house. Held tightly to her chest was a small, worn teddy bear with only one eye. She had found it sitting on a shelf in the bedroom closet when she was looking for an extra blanket the night before. One day when she and Laura had gone shopping, Laura had told her about the teddy bear.

Frank had given it to Joe when he had his tonsils out as a child and had to stay in the hospital over night. Since Frank couldn't stay with his brother, he had emptied his piggy bank and purchased the teddy bear to "protect" Joe until he came home. From that day on, Joe had dragged the teddy bear everywhere and never let it out of his sight. When Vanessa spied the well-loved bear on the shelf, she recalled seeing it in Joe's closet at college and wondered why he hadn't taken it with him when they moved in together.

She heard muted voices in the hall and looked at the clock by the bed – 6:30 a.m. She sat up and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Not surprisingly, she had not slept well at all. She'd had strange dreams about Joe being locked in a prison cell, unable to get out. He had been told he could go home, but no one could seem to find the key to let him out. She shuddered, hoping it wasn't a premonition of things to come.

Vanessa thought about getting up but wasn't sure she wanted to face Joe's parents. She had inadvertently overheard an argument they had had the previous night. Laura was livid that her husband could think for one second Joe could have killed someone in cold blood. Fenton was insistent that he knew what he saw, but Laura remained unconvinced and was unwavering in her support of Joe. Vanessa winced as she recalled Laura telling Fenton he might be more comfortable sleeping on the couch in his office.

Vanessa completely understood how Laura felt. She knew how angry Joe was and how much he wanted to get the man who had raped her. But she didn't care what Frank and Fenton thought they saw; in her heart she knew, no matter what, Joe was not capable of killing another human being in cold blood. She hugged the bear a little closer wondering how Joe was. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened and Laura came in and sat on the bed, smiling. "I see you found Bear."

"Bear?" Vanessa said with amusement. "His name is Bear?"

Laura laughed softly. "Joe was only four years old. He wanted to call it Frank, but that was vetoed pretty quickly. Frank did not want a teddy bear to be mistaken for him. Bear was the next best thing Joe could come up with."

Looking at Laura, Vanessa held Bear close. "Will Joe be able to come home today?" she asked tentatively.

"Fenton has been working on it all night. He was finally able to get a hold of his friend, Dennis Seevers, the District Attorney. He was on vacation but he dropped everything to come back. He's on his way home right now. Dennis seems to think it won't be a problem." Laura squeezed Vanessa's hand reassuringly.

Vanessa let out a shaky breath and smiled. "Good." She looked around the room and let her gaze settle on Laura once again. "Thank you for letting me stay here last night. I just couldn't go home. Not without Joe."

"You're always welcome here, honey. You know that," Laura smiled at her. "Are you hungry? I was just going to make some breakfast. Will you join me?"

"I'd like that, thanks."

"Okay. Come on down when you're ready," Laura said and left Vanessa to get ready for the day.

A short time later, Vanessa appeared in the kitchen. Her mother and Laura were seated at the table talking over coffee.

"Let me get you some coffee," Laura said starting to get up.

Vanessa put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. "I don't want you waiting on me. Besides, I know where everything is."

Vanessa hugged her mother, who kissed her on the cheek and then walked to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. As she was staring out the kitchen window into the backyard, the phone rang.

"Do you want me to get it?" Vanessa asked Laura, as she was standing right next to the phone.

"Sure, honey. Go ahead."

"It's not even seven a.m.," Andrea said looking at the clock. "Who would be calling this early in the morning?"

Laura exchanged a knowing look with Vanessa. "Andrea, when you live with a house full of detectives you get used to the phone ringing at all hours of the day and night."

Vanessa nodded in agreement, as she reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Baby!"

"Joe!" Vanessa exclaimed automatically smiling at the sound of his voice.

"I wanted to see how you were doing this morning. I'm so sorry we had to be apart last night. God, I miss you."

"I miss you too," Vanessa said softly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Babe. And as soon as I get to see you, I'll be even better. Con stopped by to see me this morning. He said Dad and Andrew are trying to get me a bail hearing today."

"So you will be coming home today?" she asked hopefully. "I hate to think of you stuck in that jail cell for something you didn't do. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?" she said angrily.

"Thanks for the support," Joe chuckled at her anger. "That's what the bail hearing is for."

"Joe…what if it's more than we can afford?" her voice trembled. At some point during the night, it struck her that if Joe was indeed charged with first-degree murder, the bail could be so high they might not be able to pay it.

"Don't worry about it, Babe," Joe said with more confidence than he felt. He, too, had come to that same conclusion, but didn't want to worry Vanessa any more than she already was. "Whatever it is, we'll find a way to pay it."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Hold on a sec." Vanessa heard voices in the background and then Joe was back. "I have to go, hon. But I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," Vanessa said fighting back tears. "I love you."

"I love you too, Baby. Bye."

"Bye," she whispered and slowly hung up the phone.

Staring out the window once again, she knew she was fighting a losing battle trying to hold back the tears.

"Come here, honey." She heard her mothers voice and turned to her, burying her head in Andrea's shoulder.

Laura quietly got up and left the kitchen, tears forming in her own eyes. She bumped into her husband who was coming out of his office. She glanced back towards the kitchen and then leveled him with a steady gaze.

"Make sure he gets out on bail – _today_!" she said in a tone of voice that left no room for argument. Brushing past him, she went out the front door.

…

Watching his wife's retreating back, Fenton Hardy recalled reading somewhere that the most dangerous place in the world to be was between a mother and her child. He now knew exactly what that meant.


	5. Chapter 5

**Innocent**

**Chapter 5**

Vanessa sat in the crowded courtroom between her mother and Laura Hardy. She was doing her best to try to stay calm fighting off the growing panic she was feeling. Since the rape, other than her daily sessions with Dr. Jennings, she had left the apartment exactly twice to go out in public. The first time was to see Shauna in the hospital and she had been with Joe – the only person she really felt safe with. The second time was the previous night when she went to the police station to find out what had happened to Joe. At least she had gotten to see him and spend a few minutes with him. Today, even though she was with family and friends, she felt very alone and very scared.

Now sitting in the small courtroom surrounded by strangers, she could feel a panic attack coming on. She had lost count of how many bail hearings had already taken place as she sat waiting for Joe's name to be called. Each time it was not, she lost a little more of her composure.

Gripping the armrests on the chair, she focused her attention on the nameplate on the judge's desk, trying to calm herself. Someone in the row behind her was trying to squeeze by and inadvertently brushed up against her. She almost jumped out of her skin and felt her heart start to race the way it did when a flashback was imminent. Her breath started coming in short, little gasps.

'_Not now! Please, not now!' _

She could not afford to have a flashback. Not here. Not now. Joe was the only one who knew what to do for her when the flashbacks came and he was nowhere to be found. Closing her eyes, she tried to slow her breathing. Remembering Dr. Jennings advice on dealing with the sudden, frightening memories, she pictured their apartment in her mind. Taking slow, deep breaths, she created a mental picture of herself curled up on the couch next to Joe, his arms wrapped protectively around her. She pictured the front door and sliding glass door, both locked and dead-bolted. She focused on how she felt when she was at home – safe and protected where no one could hurt her.

'_I'm safe,'_ she told herself. _'I am surrounded by people who love me. They won't let anything happen to me. I am safe.' _

Slowly she opened her eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see Frank smiling back at her. He and Fenton had been out attending to last minute details of getting Joe out on bail. He winked at her and gave her a thumbs up before turning back towards the front of the room.

Vanessa followed his gaze to the front of the room and her heart leapt. Joe was seated at the defense table next to Andrew Worth! She had been concentrating so hard she hadn't even heard his name being called. He was now staring at her, worry and concern written all over his face. He had seen her through many flashbacks since the rape and even though no one else around her knew what had just happened, Joe did. She smiled at him and mouthed _'I love you'_ hoping to reassure him that she was okay. He smiled back at her and then turned to face the front of the room.

"What are the charges?" the judge asked, looking at the two men seated at the prosecution table. District Attorney Dennis Seevers, in his mid-forties with curly dark hair, and steel gray eyes was seated next to Alex Waugh. Alex, who was about ten years younger than Dennis, had dark blond hair and brown eyes and had been assigned to the case when Edward Bennett had been removed.

"Second degree murder, your Honor," Dennis addressed the judge.

Judge O'Donnell looked down at something on his desk then looked up again, perplexed.

"Counsel, please approach the bench," he said addressing both Dennis and Andrew.

The two men stood and approached the bench, looking slightly confused.

Vanessa watched as Frank and his father exchanged a worried glance accompanied by some agitated whispering. She held her breath. They hadn't been expecting any problems and anxiously looked back at the bench.

…

"Mr. Seevers," O'Donnell began speaking quietly so as not to be heard by everyone in the courtroom. "The charge listed here is first degree murder." He pushed a paper across the desk.

Picking it up, Dennis quickly scanned the information on the sheet as Andrew read over his shoulder.

"Damn you, Bennett," Dennis said under his breath. He looked at Andrew. "Sorry about this." Turning back to the judge he continued, "I apologize, Your Honor. One of my assistants filed the charges last night, before consulting with me or one of his senior A.D.A.'s. I spoke with him very late last night and instructed him to reduce the charge. Apparently, there was a miscommunication," he concluded.

Judge O'Donnell checked the name of the attorney who filed the charges and then looked at the prosecution table. Noting the absence of Edward Bennett he asked, "If Mr. Bennett was the lead attorney on this case and filed the original charges, why isn't he here with you today?"

"Conflict of interest, Your Honor. I removed him from the case."

The judge shook his head and frowned. "This is highly irregular, Mr. Seevers. I think it's best if we postpone this bail hearing until you can get this straightened out."

…

Watching from her seat, it was obvious to Vanessa that there was a problem. Leaning forward, she tapped Fenton on the shoulder.

"What's wrong? This didn't happen during any of the other hearings," she asked anxiously.

"I know, honey." Fenton patted her hand reassuringly. "Try not to worry. I'm sure they'll get it all straightened out," he said, hoping he sounded convincing. _'What can possibly be wrong now?' _

Back at the front of the room, Andrew decided to take a chance and addressed the judge.

"Your Honor, with all due respect, this case has some very extenuating circumstances," he said glancing back at Vanessa. "We would like to conclude the bail hearing as quickly as possible. I spoke with Mr. Seevers this morning and understood the charge would be second-degree murder. We are ready to plead these charges. If we can do so now, I have every confidence D.A. Seevers will get the paperwork corrected as soon as possible."

"Your Honor, if we can complete the hearing now on the second degree murder charge, I assure you your court docket will be corrected immediately. All the other documents have been filed with the correct charge," Seevers pressed.

Judge O'Donnell sat back in his chair glancing at Vanessa as he did so. Seeing the worry and anxiety on her face his heart went out to her. He realized postponing the hearing would only add to the emotional strain she was already dealing with. He had a granddaughter about her age and shuddered at the thought of her having to go through something like this.

"Very well. Let's proceed."

Relieved, Dennis and Andrew returned to their respective tables.

"What's wrong now?" Joe demanded anxiously when Andrew sat down. He had been watching Vanessa for the past few minutes and knew if the hearing was not completed soon, she was going to lose it.

"Just a mix up in the paperwork, Joe. Don't worry, it's been taken care of."

Leaning back towards Fenton, Andrew simply said, "Bennett." and shook his head in disgust.

"Mr. Seevers, could you repeat the charges, please," Judge O'Donnell requested.

"Second degree murder, your Honor," Dennis Seevers repeated with authority.

'_Murder.'_ The word echoed in Vanessa's mind. She wanted to jump up and tell everyone that Joe was kind and sweet and loving and caring and was totally incapable of murder under any circumstances. He had desperately wanted to be out on the streets day and night, searching for the man who had raped her, but instead he stayed by her side showing nothing but compassion. He was gentle and thoughtful and she was sure he was the only reason she had kept her sanity since this whole horrible ordeal had started.

"How do you plead?" the judge asked of the defense.

Vanessa saw Andrew stand up and listened intently to what he was saying.

"Not guilty, Your Honor and we would like to request bail. Joe Hardy was raised here in Bayport. This is his home. His family and friends are here. His fiancé is here. He will voluntarily turn in his passport and agree not to leave town. With all due respect, your Honor, he is a minimal flight risk at best."

Judge O'Donnell looked at Seevers who stood once again.

"We have no objection to bail, your Honor. Given the severity of the charges, we request bail be set in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars cash."

"Very well," O'Donnell said. "Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars cash," he said, effectively ending the proceedings.

Joe turned, searching for Vanessa in the rows behind him. He saw her and their eyes locked. They looked at each other in panic. Where in the world were they going to come up with half a million dollars in cash?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Yeah, I know it doesn't really work this way with paying bail but I liked the drama of it and I'm in Hardy-land, so I'm taking liberties. :-p

While I did like Phoenix's suggestion about selling Frank and Fenton – along with some tea towels! :p – to raise the bail money, they took a more traditional route. And for everyone who's worried about the rift between Frank and Joe, hang in for one more chapter. I don't think you'll be disappointed; at least I hope you won't.

Thank you again for all the reviews. You make me smile. :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 6**

Unbeknownst to both Vanessa and Joe, Frank along with Fenton and Andrew had been in a meeting with District Attorney Dennis Seevers most of the morning. He and Fenton were old friends, and while Dennis had no intention of showing Joe any favoritism, he had cut his vacation short and rushed back to meet with them and work out the terms of Joe's bail. Frank had also informed him of the history between Joe and Edward Bennett. Upon hearing the story, Dennis assured Fenton he would personally take charge of Joe's case.

Frank and his father had then gone to the bank and each taken out a second mortgage on their homes to come up with the money needed for Joe's bail. As they were still a little short, Fenton had cashed in some stocks and bonds to make up the difference, which was why they had been so late arriving at the courtroom. Dennis and Andrew had requested that Joe's bail hearing not be conducted until after Frank and Fenton had arrived.

Andrew Worth now stood to address the judge.

"We're prepared to make bail, Your Honor."

Judge O'Donnell looked at him in disbelief. "Perhaps you misunderstood me, Mr. Worth. Bail is five hundred thousand dollars _cash_ – not bond."

"Again, with all due respect, Your Honor, I did not misunderstand you. We are prepared to make bail."

He turned to Fenton who was seated next to Frank in the first row of seats. Fenton reached down and picked up a briefcase, handing it over to Andrew.

"Mr. Worth," the judge began. "I hope you are not saying…"

"Yes, sir," Andrew smiled, wryly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Bailiff!" Judge O'Donnell barked and nodded at the briefcase in Andrew's hands. "This court will now take a fifteen minute recess." He then stood and retreated to his chambers.

The bailiff quickly came forward and retrieved the briefcase from Andrew, following the judge into his chambers.

"Okay, Joe, you're free to go," Andrew said, shoving papers into his briefcase. "Be at my office first thing tomorrow morning, and don't forget to bring your passport. We need to start working on your defense right away."

"I can go home?" Joe asked stunned. He wasn't quite sure what had just taken place. "What about the bail?"

"What do you think was in that briefcase your father gave me?" Andrew said quietly. He patted Joe on the back. "Take Vanessa and go home. You both look like you could use some rest." Snapping his briefcase shut, Andrew walked over to talk to Dennis Seevers.

Joe stood rooted to the spot, still in shock. His father leaned over the railing separating them and nudged Joe towards the gate leading back to the seating area.

"I think there's someone back here who wants to see you," Fenton said with a little smile.

Snapping back to reality, Joe raced through the gates almost bowling over two people in his haste to get to Vanessa. She met him halfway and literally threw herself into his arms. They held each other tightly, neither one saying a word.

"We'll wait out in the hall," Fenton murmured walking past the couple and following Laura, Andrea, Frank and Callie out the door of the courtroom.

In the hallway outside the courtroom, Frank spotted Liz Webling walking towards them very quickly. Although Liz had been a friend of the Hardys since high school, Frank was always leery of talking to her about anything other than the weather when they were working on a case. Liz was an investigative reporter for _The Bayport Times_, the local newspaper owned by her father. He knew the press was relegated to an area outside the Court House and wondered whom she bribed to get in.

"Dad," he said quietly and nodded at her.

"Great," Fenton muttered as he and Frank began walking towards Liz in an effort to cut her off.

"I'm here as a friend," she said sincerely.

"Off the record?" Frank asked her warily.

"Yes," she replied, her expression turning serious. "Have you seen today's paper yet?" she asked looking from Frank to his father. She suspected they hadn't otherwise she never would have made it this far into the building.

"No," Fenton replied with an edge to his voice. "We were a little preoccupied this morning. I can assume whatever it is won't make us very happy?" he said gesturing to the rolled up newspaper Liz held in her hands.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Hardy." She extended the paper towards Fenton, and then looked at Frank. "I had absolutely nothing to do with this, Frank. I didn't know anything about it. If I did, I would have killed the story immediately. I didn't even know Joe had been arrested until I got to work this morning."

As she watched Fenton unroll the newspaper, she involuntarily took a few steps backwards. The expression on his face turned from mild distrust to fury in seconds.

"I really am sorry, Mr. Hardy. My whole family was in New York City last night to celebrate my parent's anniversary. Honestly, if my Dad or I had been here last night, this never would have happened."

Expecting the worst, Frank peered over his fathers shoulder. Seeing the headline splashed across the front page, his blood began to boil. An enlarged file photo of Joe took up a rather large chunk of the front page. A large, bold headline above the photo read:

**Hero or Vigilante?**

Neither Frank nor Fenton spoke, left momentarily speechless by what they saw. Liz, who had fully expected a verbal assault from both of them, was growing increasingly more nervous as the deafening silence continued.

"She's a new reporter who came to us highly recommended, but we've had nothing but trouble with her from the start." She could see Frank and Fenton were quickly scanning the article to see what kind of damage control would be required.

Frank finally looked at Liz in disbelief. "I thought your father hated sensational journalism. He always prided himself on fair and honest reporting."

"He does! We weren't here and the regular night shift editor was out sick. She managed to sneak it by whoever was filling in for him," her voice trailed off.

"There isn't one actual fact in here other than that Chris Taylor is dead. Who is this confidential source she keeps citing?" Fenton demanded.

Liz bit her lip in frustration. "She won't say."

"My money is on Edward Bennett," Frank said with disgust.

"Does this so-called reporter know the meaning of libel? And slander?" Fenton asked. The barely controlled rage in his voice sent a shiver down Frank's spine.

Liz swallowed hard. "If it's any consolation, Mr. Hardy, this article will probably get her fired."

"This is not a news article. This is pure fantasy. And her being fired now is just too little, too late. The damage is done." Fenton looked at the article once again in disbelief, focusing on the name of the reporter. "You can tell Ms. Gregg and your father that they'll both be hearing from our lawyer. And I better see a retraction on the front page of tomorrow's paper." He gave the newspaper back to Liz and retreated down the hall.

"Frank, please tell Joe how sorry I am about this. It's all so ridiculous. Anyone in their right mind knows Joe couldn't kill anybody."

Frank stiffened as her words hit him with full force. He realized everyone he had spoken with who had _not_ been at the abandoned warehouse the previous evening had no doubts at all about Joe's innocence.

Glancing down the hall, Liz saw a guard approaching. "I better go," she said nervously. "Listen, if Joe is going home from here, don't let him go out through the main entrance. It's a zoo out there; media everywhere. It could get ugly."

Frank saw the worry in her eyes and softened slightly. "Thanks for the warning, Liz. I'll try and explain to Joe what happened."

"Thank you. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."

"Just make sure there's something resembling a retraction in tomorrow's paper, on the front page, or Dad will be out for blood," Frank warned her.

"I'll write it myself," she assured him. "And try not to worry too much. Somehow you and Joe always manage to land on your feet, no matter what." She turned and walked towards the main entrance.

…

Back in the now empty courtroom, Joe and Vanessa held each other close, neither one wanting to let go.

"See, I told you everything would work out," Joe said softly.

"It's about time. Our luck hasn't been very good lately," Vanessa replied.

"That's putting it mildly!" Joe closed his eyes and held Vanessa a little tighter. He couldn't help but think it was probably going to get a lot worse before it got better – _if_ it got better. Stepping back, he looked into Vanessa's eyes and then kissed her softly. "Let's go home, Baby."

Arms around each other, they emerged from the courtroom and saw their families waiting in the hall. Joe immediately went to his mother, enveloping her in a big hug.

"Thanks, Mom," he whispered. "Thanks for believing in me. Thanks for taking care of Vanessa. Thanks for everything."

"That's what I'm here for, honey," she replied kissing his cheek. She looked him in the eyes and then gave him the once over as only a mother can. "You look terrible," she announced.

"You're the second person today who has commented on my less than stellar looks!" Joe rolled his eyes.

"You are going to go straight home and get some sleep," Laura ordered, nudging him back towards Vanessa. "_Both_ of you."

"Fine with me," Joe replied suddenly realizing how tired he really was.

Putting an arm around Vanessa, he turned towards the main entrance only to be stopped by Frank.

"What?" he said, tiredly. Joe was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to deal with a confrontation with his brother right now.

"It would be better to go out the back way. Dad's going to bring the car around."

"Why?" Joe asked in exasperation. Having been stuck in a jail cell until just a short while ago, he had no idea his arrest was the hottest news item in town.

"The media area is just outside the front door. And it's packed." Frank nodded almost imperceptibly towards Vanessa. "You don't want to go out that way. Too many people all crowded into a very small space."

"That bad?" Joe asked.

"I'm afraid so, little bro."

Hearing the nickname that sometimes annoyed him, Joe realized how much he missed it. As he had been listening to Frank, Joe wondered if Frank even realized he had gone into his overprotective big brother mode. Whether Frank was doing it on purpose or if it was just instinctive, Joe found it comforting to know that no matter how bad things got, there were some things that would never change.

"Thanks," Joe said, quietly.

The little group turned and walked to the building's rear entrance.

"Let me just go out and make sure Dad is here," Frank said, motioning for Joe, Vanessa, Laura and Andrea to wait. He went outside, but quickly popped his head back in. "All clear. Let's go."

Exiting the building, Joe saw his father's car parked just outside the door and Frank's car right behind it with Callie behind the wheel. They piled into the two cars and pulled away from the courthouse, completely avoiding the media circus.

Joe leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, thankful to finally be out of the small, cramped jail cell. Drifting off to sleep, the chilling thought that a similar cell at the state prison could soon be his new home settled itself at the back of his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

Calathiel of Mirkwood: Thank you! I try for the suspense angle but I'm not always sure it's working the way I intended.

Lyz: Thank you so much for the review! Hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Twisp: Actually I'm not big into courtroom/trial stories either so I hope this goes in a direction you'll enjoy – even if it is partially in the courtroom! LOL!

Miss Fenway: I agree – there's no place like home! ;-)

Cheryl, darlin', thank you my friend! I've been such a slug with my own reviewing and we both know you don't have to do this. I love ya, girl! (But I still hate you for having five days off this weekend compared to my measly two! :p)

Pally: Thanks for the review! The bail issue was covered at the beginning of chapter six, I believe it was. Frank and Fenton may have their doubts about Joe's innocence but they weren't going to let him sit in jail any longer than absolutely necessary. ;-)

HelenLouise: Thank you! I think I'm enjoying your wonderful story just as much!

Shameless plugs: Both Cheryl (Cherylann Rivers) and Helen have WONDERFUL stories posting on this site. If you haven't checked them out yet, what are you waiting for? I think you'll love them! I'm enjoying both of them immensely! Cheryl's is _Fire and Ice_ and Helen's is _Blame_. They are both good, angsty – and WELL WRITTEN – reads. :-)

Okay, here ya go – the chapter many of you have been waiting for. Hope you enjoy it. ;-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 7**

Joe stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the front page of the newspaper. After arriving home, Frank had pulled him aside while Vanessa was talking to her mother and Laura, and repeated what Liz had told him. Joe had no idea how he had managed to keep his temper under control and fight off the overwhelming urge to hit something or someone. He realized, with disgust, that he was getting very good at hiding his true feelings from Vanessa.

Shaking his head, he carefully ripped the front page off the newspaper. Tearing it into small pieces, he put them in a plastic bag and shoved it to the bottom of the trashcan. The remainder of the paper was buried halfway down in the recycle bin. He had no delusions that Vanessa wasn't going to find out about the article eventually, but if he had his way, it would not be today.

Sitting through the bail hearing really had been too much for her. Since being released from the hospital, she had isolated herself at home because she was now afraid to be around anyone she did not know well. Sitting in the packed courtroom all morning, surrounded by strangers had been absolutely terrifying for her. When Joe had finally arrived in the courtroom he had found Vanessa in the crowd right away but she hadn't seen him, as she was trying to fight off yet another flashback.

Joe watched her helplessly and wondered how many she'd already suffered through before he got there. It made him realize, once again, just how much she loved him and the lengths she would go to for him. There was no need for her to attend the bail hearing. She could have easily waited at home with her mother until Joe was released and returned to their apartment. Putting herself in a situation where she was being crowded by strangers was too big a step for her to take at this early stage in her recovery. It could easily wipe out all the progress she had made in the past few days. But she had insisted on going to the hearing. She wanted to be there for Joe and nothing was going to stop her – not even her own fears.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, Joe leaned forward resting his head on his arms, eyes closed. The newspaper article kept flashing before him. He had read it so many times he practically had it committed to memory.

_'Jennifer Gregg,'_ he recalled the name on the byline. _'We've never met, Ms. Gregg, and you better hope we never do.' _

He could deal with all the innuendo and half-truths she had written about him. The gist of the article was that upon finding the man who had raped his fiancé, Joe had killed him in an act of revenge. She had smugly followed that with the self-righteous comment that in order to protect the privacy of the rape victim, his fiancé's name would not be printed. He knew it was standard policy for _The Bayport Times_ and had always respected Mr. Webling for that. But in this case, it was a sick joke. Just about everyone in Bayport knew the name of the woman Joe Hardy intended to marry.

One of the biggest reasons Vanessa had sequestered herself in their apartment, other than fear, was that she thought somehow, just by looking at her, everyone would know she had been raped. It had been fairly easy for Joe to try to reassure her that couldn't happen. Now, however, with the article appearing in the morning paper, she would be absolutely right. Joe didn't care what Jennifer Gregg had to say about him, but she had hurt Vanessa in the process and that crossed the line. He didn't know how, where, or when, but Joe vowed Jennifer Gregg would pay for that.

Unfortunately, the article was also forcing Joe to face some chilling realities. Although it was deliberately inflammatory and by all rights should be relegated to the supermarket checkout line, it had contained some elements of truth that, up until now, Joe had just not acknowledged. For one, the circumstantial evidence against him, and there was plenty of it, made it seem he had indeed killed Chris Taylor _after_ Taylor had surrendered. Alone in the jail cell, he'd had time to replay the whole, ugly night in his mind over and over again.

When the back up Evan had urgently requested began to arrive, Joe and Taylor were already fighting for control of his gun. Everyone else involved, including his brother and father, were quite a ways back from where Joe and Taylor had ended up. Since he was bigger than Taylor, Joe realized he had to be obstructing their view of what was happening. They were also far enough away that those anxiously watching and waiting - and listening - would hear only what Taylor wanted them to hear. With a sinking heart, Joe finally admitted to himself that no one else other than him had heard Taylor say he was going to die that night and Joe would have to pay for it.

That reminded Joe he had a whole list of questions that he wanted answers to. While he knew Frank could probably tell him much of what he needed to know, his father was the one person that he was certain had all the answers. Recalling the very strange exchange between his father and Taylor, he began to understand there was a lot more going on here than he had been told. He knew it had to be connected somehow, to all the lies Frank and his father had told him. Taylor had said if Joe had just done what he was told, if his father had not been a hero, none of this would have happened.

_'If I'd only done what I was told? When? I never even met Taylor before last night!' _

He sat upright, recalling the words Taylor had whispered just for him. _"It may have taken seventeen years, but you'll finally get what my father had intended for you all along." _

Whatever Taylor was referring to would have occurred when Joe was only six years old. He tried to think back that far but most of those memories were pretty fuzzy. And if something bad had happened when he was a child, he was sure he'd remember it. Other than the terrifying summer Frank had been diagnosed with leukemia, the two of them had what Joe would consider a perfect childhood.

_'Besides, I've never even met Taylor's father.' _

That triggered the memory of Taylor's last words. _"You can thank your Daddy for all this." _There was no doubt in Joe's mind, his father held the key to everything.

_'Dad…'_

Joe swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. He knew it should be impossible to get your hands on half a million dollars in cash in just a few hours. But somehow, his father had managed to move heaven and earth and do just that to make sure he did not have to spend one more night in jail. He also knew Frank had also played a part in getting the bail money. No matter what had happened last night, no matter how many angry words had been said, there was no doubt in his mind that his family loved him and would do absolutely anything to protect him.

Getting up from the table, he walked into the living room and lay down on the couch. He had tried to sleep right after everyone had left but the little boy he had dreamt about in jail had returned. Joe shivered, thinking about the scared little boy whose parents were dead and the terror the little boy had felt. He was thankful it was just a dream; no child should have to feel such fear.

Still unable to sleep, Joe began to worry about the upcoming trial. He had finally admitted to himself that the circumstances surrounding the shooting were such that there was a good chance he could be convicted. Every single one of the witnesses was involved in law enforcement in one capacity or another. Their "eye witness" testimony would be given great weight. And there was no doubt in his mind that Dennis Seevers would call Frank and his father as his star witnesses, hostile or not. There was just no way around the fact that their testimony would be the most damaging of all and could go a long way towards getting him sent to prison.

Reflecting on how things must have looked from where they stood, he could almost understand, at least initially, how they might think he had pulled the trigger. He still didn't understand why they didn't believe him when he told them what had really taken place, but he no longer doubted their love for him.

Joe felt a cold fear starting to grow in his heart. He knew what would happen to him in prison should the unthinkable occur and he was actually found guilty. Trying to halt the growing fear, he thought of Vanessa. Fortunately, she had been able to fall asleep and apparently was doing so peacefully. He had felt so lucky that she had found her way into his life. Without her, he never would have been able to fully get past Iola's death. What would happen to Vanessa if he ended up in prison? Another worry to add to the mountain of worries that seemed to be burying him.

He finally started to drift off to sleep and hoped the scared little boy would leave him alone long enough to get some much-needed rest.

oooOOOooo

Frank sat on a leather couch in the spacious, elegantly decorated reception area of Andrew Worth's law firm. He was waiting while Andrew interviewed his father about the shooting, after which he would meet with Andrew and go through the same process. Leaning back into the big, comfortable cushions, he took advantage of the first opportunity he'd had to really think about what had happened and exactly what he saw.

Frank and his father had been at the police station until well after midnight and from there had begun tracking down Dennis Seevers. The District Attorney, who was an old friend of Fenton's, was away on vacation. They needed to get in touch with him and hopefully convince him to return to Bayport right away and take over Joe's case. If Edward Bennett were left in charge of it, Joe could end up in prison facing the death penalty.

Luckily, Dennis willingly agreed to return home and take over prosecuting Joe's case, something Edward Bennett was not at all happy about. From there Frank had been able to catch a few hours of restless sleep before he and his father were in meetings with Dennis and Andrew, working out the details of Joe's bail. Dennis had felt terrible setting the bail so high, and in cash, but given the charges he did not want it to appear he was giving Joe preferential treatment.

Frank was sure they would never be able to come up with that much cash so quickly. The forms he and his father had to complete at the bank seemed to be endless and he knew it usually took at least a day or two for final approval to be given. He watched in awe as his father made a few well-placed phone calls and called in some favors to get their paperwork approved immediately. After a final stop so Fenton could cash in some stocks to get the remainder of the money, they rushed to the courthouse and arrived just as Joe's bail hearing began.

The rest of the morning was an emotional roller coaster for everyone. Frank was sure the fact that the initial charge of first-degree murder had not been reduced, as Dennis Seevers had requested, was not a miscommunication at all. He was sure it was a final dig at his brother by Edward Bennett.

Throughout the hearing, Frank had tried to keep an eye on Vanessa. A few times, he thought she was going to lose it and break down right there in the courtroom. She probably shouldn't have been there, but her fierce devotion to Joe would not let her do anything else. Frank admired the courage it took for her to endure the whole thing; he knew how scared she was just being there but to those who didn't know her, it never showed.

The article on the front page of _The Bayport Times_ had just about been the last straw. It was sensational and inflammatory and, while there were no outright lies printed, it also bore little resemblance to the truth. Frank knew the public would just eat it up. He took a little consolation in the fact that if his father had anything to say about it, Jennifer Gregg was probably packing up her desk right about now.

One of the hardest things Frank had to do was tell Joe about the article, but he didn't want Joe to hear about it from anyone else. Expecting a repeat performance of Joe's destructive rage the night Vanessa had been raped, he had been somewhat surprised at his brother's reaction. He knew Joe was boiling mad but he kept it well hidden, for Vanessa's sake. Joe knew she would find out about the article eventually, but he did not want it to be today; the bail hearing alone was more than enough for her to deal with in one day.

Frank felt himself growing angry thinking of all the trouble that article would cause. What had happened to Vanessa was horrible and to have it splashed across the front page of the paper was appalling. Jennifer Gregg had made a point of saying the victim's name would not be published as if that made any difference. It was common knowledge in Bayport that Joe and Vanessa were engaged.

'_I hope I get to meet you, Ms. Gregg, before you are run out of town so I can tell you exactly what I think of you.' _

That had brought him to his present situation of waiting to be interviewed by Andrew. From the moment Joe had been whisked away in handcuffs, something about the whole incident had been nagging at Frank, although he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. He thought again, slowly and methodically, about what he had seen and heard.

Joe had been under a huge emotional strain the past week and had probably been pushed to his limits last night; especially with the way Taylor was baiting him. When he combined that with what he saw, he had to concede that Joe probably just snapped under the strain and did pull the trigger.

Frank was so much like his father in the logical, methodical way he looked at a case. He always based his judgments on tangible evidence and facts, rarely letting his emotions and feelings get in the way. Joe was the one who always thought first with his heart and then with his head.

As if the light bulb had suddenly been turned on, Frank realized _that_ was what was bothering him. He had been trying so hard not to let his emotions get in the way since his brother was the one being accused, he wasn't paying attention to the most important detail of all. No matter how neatly and logically the pieces fit together in his head, his heart told him there was no way Joe could kill anyone. He had no tangible proof other than the fact that he knew his brother better than he knew anyone. He finally realized that was all the proof he really needed. Joe did not kill Chris Taylor.

Frank felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders; he only wished he'd had this revelation last night. Joe was one of the most forgiving people he knew. Frank only hoped Joe would somehow be able to forgive him for this.

oooOOOooo

Joe rolled over, still half-asleep trying to find a more comfortable position for his six-foot frame on the less than six-foot couch. He heard a phone ring and thought he should get up to answer it, but he just didn't feel like moving. The ringing stopped and he heard the soft murmur of Vanessa speaking to whoever it was in a whisper. A moment later, there was silence and the presence of someone standing next to the couch.

"Yeah, I'm awake," Joe said, eyes still closed.

"You can read minds now, too?" He could tell Vanessa was smiling by the tone in her voice and that made him smile.

"Only yours, Babe." He rolled over onto his back and adjusted his legs so Vanessa could sit on the couch.

"That was Frank on the phone. He just left Andrew's office and wanted to stop by." She hesitated a moment. "I told him that was fine."

Joe finally opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Is it?" she asked a bit cautiously.

"Sure, that's fine," he replied and found that he really meant it. Joe wanted his brother back and that wasn't going to happen until they had a heart to heart talk and cleared the air. Then there was the matter of the half a million dollars Frank had helped raise to pay his bail. _'How can you ever thank someone for that?' _

"So what are you hiding?" Joe asked.

"What?" Vanessa responded with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.

"Behind your back," he gestured with his chin. "What are you hiding behind your back?"

With a sheepish look, she produced Bear. That morning when she was packing up her things to leave the Hardy's, she started to return Bear to the closet. Instead, she impulsively threw him in her bag. She wasn't quite sure how Joe would react but seeing the look on his face now, she knew she had done the right thing.

Joe quickly pushed himself up to a sitting position. With his mouth half open he stared at the old, worn out, stuffed bear with one eye.

"Bear," he whispered, as if greeting an old friend he hadn't seen in years. Vanessa reached out and put the bear in his hands. She watched as he continued to stare at the little stuffed bear and could almost see all the happy childhood memories flashing before his eyes.

"Frank gave me Bear when I was four," he said in a hushed voice. "I had to have my tonsils out and was terrified of staying in the hospital alone. I begged Mom and Dad to let Frank stay with me. They said he couldn't stay so he bought Bear instead..." Joe smiled at the memory. "…to protect me." He looked up for a moment and Vanessa saw that familiar twinkle in his blue eyes. "Hey, what did I know? I was only four!"

She laughed softly and he returned his gaze to the beat up, old stuffed toy.

"Frank broke open his piggy bank to buy this for me. He spent every last cent he had."

_'Spent every last cent he had to protect me. Just like this morning…'_

Now completely lost in his childhood, Joe didn't hear the buzzing of the intercom or notice that Vanessa had gotten up to answer it. He didn't hear the door open or realize that Vanessa had left the room.

"Wow, I haven't seen him in years."

The familiar voice snapped Joe out of his trip down memory lane. Standing up, Joe faced his older brother. Clutching Bear in one hand, he covered the distance to his brother in two, long strides. Putting his arms around Frank, Joe hugged him as tightly as he could.

Taken off guard, but thrilled at Joe's change in attitude, Frank held onto his younger brother just as tightly.

"Don't worry, bro. I'm back."

Watching from the hall, Vanessa turned and retreated to the bedroom giving the brothers some privacy, confident she had done the right thing in bringing Bear home.


	8. Chapter 8

Innocent

I'm so sorry this chapter is late AND that I didn't personally thank each of you who reviewed! It was a crazy, busy weekend (went to New York City! WOO-HOO! :D) and the week is starting out just as crazy!

But thank you to EVERYONE who has been reading and reviewing! You always make me smile! :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 8**

Frank looked at the clock beside the bed. '2:10 am' glowed in red. He was having trouble sleeping again but this time he didn't mind at all. He had stopped by to see Joe on his way home, _hoping _his brother might give him five minutes to apologize, but fearing Joe wouldn't even speak to him. To his utter surprise, upon seeing Frank, Joe had rushed to his older brother hugging him so tightly Frank almost couldn't breathe. He didn't know exactly what had caused Joe's change of heart but he thought it had something to do with Bear.

_'Bear.'_ He smiled to himself.

He recalled the small, fuzzy brown bear he had purchased for Joe to protect him while he was in the hospital after having his tonsils removed. At five years old, Frank was absolutely certain that bear had magical powers and would keep his little brother safe until he returned home where Frank could watch over him. He hadn't seen Bear since they were in college and assumed Joe had finally gotten rid of him when he and Vanessa moved in together.

Laughing softly, Frank thought the bear looked pretty pathetic although he would never say that to Joe. It's one remaining eye was barely hanging on by a thread, the fur was missing in several places and he lost count of how many times Bear had been sewn up by his mother or Aunt Gertrude after being "injured" in one of Joe's many childhood misadventures. But to his brother, that pathetic looking little bear and everything it represented, was priceless.

Frank hadn't left Joe's until well after midnight. They had laughed, cried and talked for hours about the past, the present and the future. He couldn't remember the last time they had talked like that and he only wished they had done it sooner. It was obvious Joe had been holding a lot of things inside and tonight he let them all come pouring out.

Frank shivered recalling the raw fear he had seen in Joe's eyes when he told Frank how scared he was that he might actually be found guilty of murdering Chris Taylor and sent to prison. After everything they had seen and done in their lives, Joe had gotten to the point where he was no longer afraid of anything, until now. Frank wanted to comfort and reassure his younger brother that he had nothing to worry about but he couldn't. Joe's worries were justified and he had every reason to be afraid of what would happen should he end up in prison. Seeing the terror on his brother's face, Frank promised himself he would not rest until he found some kind of evidence to prove Joe's innocence. With that promise fresh in his mind, he finally fell asleep praying it would be a promise he didn't have to break.

…

When Frank awoke several hours later, the first thing he noticed was a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in a while. There was still a lot of work to be done to prove Joe's innocence, but last night he had gotten his brother back and their bond was stronger than ever. He hoped that whatever "hell" Chris Taylor's soul was burning in, he would somehow know that his elaborate plan to destroy the special relationship between the brothers had failed miserably.

With a single goal in mind, he quickly showered and changed, eager to start the day. The sooner they got started tracking down the evidence needed to clear Joe, the sooner he and Vanessa would be freed from this nightmare.

He made his way downstairs to the kitchen where he found Callie sipping a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper.

"Well?" he asked pointedly, staring at the newspaper.

Callie smiled and held up the front page so he could see the headline – **"Victim of Circumstance**". Peering closer, he saw that Liz Webling had written it, as promised.

"What does it say?" Frank asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "The condensed version."

"Basically, it's a complete retraction of yesterday's article, with an apology for – and I quote – _"subjecting our readers to the immaturity and unprofessionalism of the writer, who is no longer with the paper"._ It also says there is no tangible proof that Joe killed Chris Taylor, just some circumstantial evidence, which they did not print, that probably won't be admissible in court," Callie finished with a smile.

"Well, that helps," Frank said pensively. "But they'll never be able to _retract_ the fact that now everyone in town knows Vanessa was raped."

"I hope it doesn't set her back, once she finds out about it. We were just starting to see a little bit of the old Vanessa." Shaking her head sadly, Callie changed the subject. "You got in pretty late last night."

"I stopped by to see Joe," Frank said, with a smile Callie hadn't seen in a long time.

"Judging by that smile, things went pretty well."

Pulling out a chair, Frank sat down and excitedly told Callie how he and Joe had spent hours and hours talking, both of them saying things they had never put into words before. She held his hand comfortingly when his tone turned serious and he told her how scared Joe was that he might end up in prison.

"No, he won't," Callie said with quiet confidence.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you. And I know you won't give up until you find what you need to clear him."

He stared into her eyes for a moment, and kissed her softly.

"Thank you. Will you remind me of that when I start to get frustrated?"

"Of course."

Looking at his watch, Frank stood up. "I have to run. I'm not sure what time I'll be home tonight. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm sure I can find something to amuse myself if need be. You just concentrate on finding the evidence to prove Joe is innocent."

He gave her another quick kiss on the cheek and left, heading for Andrew Worth's office. When he arrived, he found his father and Andrew seated in the conference room with their heads together discussing something in earnest.

"Am I interrupting?" Frank asked, hesitantly.

"No, come on in, Frank," Andrew said, waving him in. "We were just looking over the statements of the eye witnesses."

"How bad are they?" Frank asked, although one look at his father's face told him everything he needed to know.

"Technically, it's all circumstantial evidence. But all these people work in some type of law enforcement." Gesturing towards the papers, Andrew didn't look happy. "They are all worded in such a way that I'm not sure I'll be able to get them thrown out."

Frank sat down heavily in a chair, looking at his father. _'He looks terrible. I wonder if he got any sleep at all last night.' _

"We were just discussing whether we need to consider bringing Tilghman's name into this." Andrew glanced at Fenton.

"You can't!" Frank's eyes grew wide. "Dad, you said Joe had to remember on his own!"

"I know, Frank, but we may not have a choice," Fenton replied, sounding defeated. "I'd rather just tell Joe about it outright and see him free and in therapy for a while, than remain silent and watch him go to prison."

"Why are you so certain he'll be convicted?" Frank said, angrily.

"Read them for yourself," Fenton replied quietly, pushing a stack of papers across the table at him.

Looking down, Frank saw they were the statements from all the officers and investigators who had witnessed the shooting. Picking up the first statement, he read the name of the witness. It felt as if a cold hand was squeezing his heart.

'_It's mine.'_ He glanced down at the name on the next statement. _'Fenton Hardy.'_

He looked up at his father, trying to control the rising anger he felt. Glancing from his father to Andrew and back again, his eyes flashed with rage.

"_No one_ is going to use me to send my brother to prison!" he growled throwing his own statement back on the pile and shoving it across the table at his father.

"Frank, I'm just as upset as you are. But right now, we need to concentrate on finding the best defense for Joe," his father replied.

"Dad, please don't tell me you still think Joe is guilty."

Fenton looked closely at Frank, considering his choice of words and the look on his face.

"Apparently we both came to the same conclusion last night," he said. "What was it that changed your mind?"

"Just the fact that I know my brother. He couldn't kill another human being - not like that. I'm just ashamed it took me so long to realize it. And you?"

"Something he said. I guess I was still reeling from everything that had happened. I didn't pick up on it right away. Joe said Taylor told him he would be going to prison for Taylor's murder. It had taken seventeen years but Joe would finally get what his father had intended for Joe all along."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Joe hasn't remembered anything about that weekend. The only way Joe could know about that is if Taylor told him. Which means Joe was telling the truth about everything else. In order for Joe to go to prison and get what Josh Tilghman had intended for him seventeen years ago, Taylor would have to die and Joe would have to be found guilty of killing him.

"Taylor couldn't be sure Joe would pull the trigger no matter how much Taylor goaded him. He had to kill himself. But in order to make sure Joe took the blame for it, he made it appear as if he wanted to give himself up first." Fenton shook his head, disgusted with himself.

"Have you talked to Joe yet this morning?" Frank asked. "Have you told him you know he's innocent?"

"Not yet." Fenton looked at Andrew and Frank. "When he gets here I want some time alone with him before we get started. I don't know that he'll forgive me…I don't even know if I deserve to be forgiven for this. But I want him to know I do believe him. I know he didn't kill Taylor."

"He'll forgive you, Dad. He forgave me," Frank told his father reassuringly. He then returned to the problem at hand. "What we need to concentrate on is finding the evidence that is going to prove he's innocent."

"What evidence are you thinking of? Something specific?"

"Jesse Baumgarten said Taylor was obsessed with Joe. He knew exactly how to hurt Joe the most. He obviously did a lot of research on him. It's still out there somewhere; we just have to find it. It could go a long way to creating a reasonable doubt about Joe's supposed guilt."

Frank got a familiar gleam in his eye, causing Fenton to smile. In his head, he could hear one of the many wise cracks Joe saved for just this occasion. _"Here we go. I can almost hear the wheels spinning in his brain!" _

Pacing the room excitedly, Frank told his father and Andrew about his obvious revelation, the words coming faster and faster. "Taylor was methodical and organized and just arrogant enough to believe he would never be caught. Someone like that would want to keep some kind of record of his 'accomplishments'. Some kind of documentation so he could gloat over how well his plans for revenge were working."

Fenton regarded his son thoughtfully, proud of his determination to clear his brother.

"You may be on to something there. But it's going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack. That could take time, Frank."

"Something we don't have a lot of," Andrew interrupted. "I think we have to consider all the options." His voice dropped considerably. "Even if some of them don't guarantee the ending we all want."

"Andrew is right, Frank. I don't want you to lose sight of reality. We're just starting here," Fenton waved his hand over the pile of witness statements, "but these could be very damaging. Just because we know there is evidence out there somewhere that can prove Joe is innocent, that doesn't mean the judge will sit back and wait patiently until we track it down. If we can't find it quickly, we may have to consider focusing on a defense that will get Joe as little prison time as possible," he concluded sadly.

"No," Frank replied, recalling the terror in Joe's voice when he talked about what a prison sentence would mean for him. Frank's eyes burned with an intensity Fenton had never seen before. When he spoke again there was a conviction in his voice that left no doubt he meant every word he said.

"He's innocent. I will find the evidence we need to clear him. My brother is _not_ going to be the new toy for the inmates in the state prison! The only way he's going to prison is over my dead body."


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you so much for your continued support of this story! When real life starts to get overwhelming, your wonderful reviews are my escape. Thank you for making me smile. :-)

And hopefully no one will skewer Fenton. He's out of his league, as far as Joe remembering goes, and is taking the doctor's advice, assuming the expert knows best. ;-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 9**

Unable to stand still, Joe fidgeted nervously in the elevator as it made it's way to the floor of Andrew Worth's law firm. Despite his seeming state of perpetual motion, he was exhausted. He had gotten almost no sleep, again, as the little boy had come back during the night and this time he was not alone. The screams that had tortured Joe in his sleep, echoed in his head. Instinctively, he covered his ears. Almost immediately, he realized what he had done and shoved his hands in his pockets, thankful he was alone in the elevator. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get this dream out of his head. It seemed to be playing on a continuous loop in his mind.

During the drive to Andrew's office, Joe had argued back and forth with himself about whether or not to tell Frank about this dream and the frightened little boy who would not leave him alone. But he was afraid if he confided in his brother, Frank would only confirm what Joe had already started to believe – the events of the past two weeks really were more than he could handle and he was starting to lose his mind. Even though he and Frank had mended their relationship and were actually closer than ever, in the end he decided to keep it to himself. No, he did not want anyone to know his dreams had suddenly turned so hideous.

'_You are not losing your mind,'_ he told himself as the elevator came to a stop. _'There has to be some reasonable explanation for it.' _

As the vile images flashed through his mind again, he felt slightly queasy. There could be no reasonable explanation for this. No, he would have to keep this horror to himself.

As he approached the receptionist, Joe put on his most charming smile. It almost scared him how easily he could conjure up that smile whenever he needed it. Even from a short distance away, he could see the young, blond woman respond. She sat up a little straighter, unknowingly smoothed her hair and leaned slightly forward on her desk. As he came to a stop in front of her, she smiled at him suggestively.

"Good morning. May I help you?" she asked, blatantly staring.

"I hope so…" Joe began.

"So do I," She winked at him.

He chuckled politely, at the same time rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses he had yet to take off.

"I have an appointment with Andrew Worth."

"Your name?" she asked, her eyes still glued to him.

"Joe Hardy."

Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she made the connection between him and the articles in the paper.

'_Guess I better get used to that,'_ he sighed inwardly, keeping the smile plastered on his face.

oooOOOooo

Back in the conference room, Andrew and Fenton stared at Frank and his rather graphic description of the realities of life in prison. A beep from the phone on the table broke the uneasy silence.

Andrew leaned forward and pressed a button on the phone. "Yes?"

"Joe Hardy is here, Mr. Worth," a female voice floated out.

Andrew looked at Fenton, knowing he wanted to speak with Joe privately. "Are you ready?"

As Fenton nodded, Andrew spoke again. "Send him in."

"Yes, sir."

Andrew rose and gathered up several files. "Frank and I will be in my office whenever you're ready."

"Thanks, Andy," Fenton replied.

"Don't worry, Dad. Everything will turn out fine," Frank said, following Andrew out of the room.

Less than a minute later, Joe appeared in the doorway. Standing on the threshold, he glanced around the room uneasily.

"Where's Frank? And Andrew?"

"I asked them to give us some time alone," Fenton replied, deciding to jump right in. "We need to talk, son."

"Oh. Okay," Joe replied not sure if this was good or bad. He tentatively entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Fenton pulled out a chair and turned it to face him. Joe sat down studying his father from behind his sunglasses.

Fenton sat quietly for a moment, watching his son and trying to collect his thoughts.

"Could you take the sunglasses off?" he requested. He always hated talking to people when their eyes were concealed in any way. You could sometimes tell their true feelings by the tone of their voice, but the eyes never lied.

Joe hesitated a second knowing what his fathers reaction would be. Reaching up, he removed the sunglasses and waited for the involuntary gasp he knew would follow. He had done it himself when he looked in the mirror that morning.

His father didn't let him down, inhaling sharply and automatically reaching forward to place the back of his hand on Joe's forehead.

"Yes, I feel okay. No, I'm not sick. No, I don't have a fever," Joe said irritably, before his father could get the questions out.

Fenton sat back and stared at his son. "I'm sorry, Joe but…you look terrible!"

"Gee, thanks."

"Just be glad I'm not your mother. She'd have you half way to the emergency room by now. Have you been sleeping at all?"

"Some." Not quite the truth and not exactly a lie.

"Try getting a little more," Fenton said, taking in his son's pale, drawn face and bloodshot eyes with the dark circles underneath. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Fenton sensed something was very wrong today. Even in the worst of times, Joe's normally outgoing personality always came through to some degree, but this morning it was nowhere to be found.

"I'll try." Joe thought of the little boy and knew it would be futile.

"Joe, I owe you an apology," Fenton began. "A very big apology."

'_Better late than never,'_ Joe thought sarcastically.

"Your mother and I always said as long as you told the truth we would always believe you," his father continued. "You held up your end of the deal. Unfortunately, I didn't."

"Why _not_?" Joe asked angrily. "When have I ever lied to you?!" His eyes started to burn and he quickly looked away. He didn't want his father to know how deeply his mistrust had hurt. "You said you'd always believe me…always."

Fenton shook his head sadly, hating himself for all the pain he had caused his son. "You've never lied to me."

"Too bad you can't say the same thing," Joe replied harshly.

"I'm so sorry, Joe. It's just…I've always relied on my senses. If I didn't see it with my own eyes or hear it for myself, I questioned it. I've always needed proof. Everyone always says they didn't do it."

"I'm your _son_, for God's sake!" Joe finally exploded, his blue eyes blazing with anger and pain. "Couldn't you at least give _me_ the benefit of the doubt?"

"I…I…I'm sorry. I was thinking like a detective when I should have been thinking like a father. I know this will never make up for how much I've hurt you, but I truly am sorry. I should have believed you right from the start. I didn't and there is no excuse for that. I don't expect you to forgive me, Joe. I know I'll never forgive myself. I know you didn't kill Chris Taylor. I never should have doubted you. I never will again." Fenton held his breath, watching his son warily, having no idea how Joe would react.

After a long, tense silence, Joe sighed heavily. "You did hurt me, Dad. You have no idea how much." His voice dropped. "Please don't ever do it again. I don't think I could forgive it a second time."

While still incredibly guilty, Fenton was immensely relieved. He thought he'd lost Joe's trust forever. "Never, son. Never again."

"What happens now?" Joe asked. With both Frank and his father now believing he was innocent, he knew they would do everything humanly possible to prove it. For the first time since he had realized the state prison could soon be his new home, he allowed himself a little bit of hope.

"Your brother thinks Taylor might have left something behind that can be used as evidence." Fenton hesitated a moment, choosing his words carefully, making sure to leave out any information Joe was not yet aware of. "He obviously hated you with a passion. He took the time to learn as much as he could about you."

"So he was stalking me for who knows how long."

"It seems that way. But that could actually work out in your favor. He must have done a lot of research to know you so well. The fact that he was extremely intelligent will mean he kept meticulous notes. Frank thinks whatever information he gathered on you is still around - somewhere - and he intends to find it."

_'Don't worry, bro. I'm back.'_ Joe smiled, remembering his brother's words from the night before.

Relieved to finally see Joe smile at something, he continued. "With any luck, he may have detailed, in writing, exactly how he planned to get his revenge. If he mentioned anything at all about suicide, dying or trying to frame you for his own death, that would corroborate your story and be all the evidence we need."

"And if we're not that lucky?" Joe's smile disappeared. Thoughts of a prison sentence came rushing back to him and with it, the fear of what would happen once he was inside those prison walls. "I could still end up in prison."

Fenton Hardy felt a chill wash over his entire body like nothing he had ever experienced before. Watching Joe just now, he had seen a momentary flash of pure terror in his son's eyes when he spoke about prison. He knew immediately Frank had seen the same look in his younger brother the night before. He now understood completely Frank's intense determination to prove beyond any doubt that Joe was innocent. Frank's voice echoed in his head. _"The only way he's going to prison is over my dead body."_

"No, you won't," Fenton replied with a conviction he hadn't felt before.

"You can't be sure of that, Dad," Joe said quietly, wishing his father wouldn't get his hopes up.

"Yes, I can," he said, a fierce resolve in his voice. "You are not going to prison. Your brother and I will never let that happen." For the first time, Fenton truly believed it.

"Thanks, Dad." Joe leaned forward and hugged his father tightly, who returned the embrace. "And thanks for getting my bail money," he added quietly. Sitting back, he looked at his father and shook his head. "Don't you know it's impossible to come up with that much cash that fast?"

"Apparently not," Fenton winked and waited for the inevitable wise crack or two from his son. When Joe remained silent, Fenton's sense that something serious was troubling Joe increased. No matter how bad things got, Joe never completely lost his sense of humor. A rapidly growing feeling of apprehension forced him to take the direct approach.

"What's wrong, Joe?" Fenton pressed, knowing there was something more to Joe's subdued mood than just lack of sleep.

Joe looked nervously around the room, his eyes darting from the windows, to the pictures on the walls, to the mass of papers and files spread on the table.

Fenton leaned forward and gently took his son's chin in his hands, forcing Joe to look at him.

"There's obviously something else bothering you besides all this. I know I haven't exactly been Father of the Year material recently but I do love you, Joe, and I'd like to help. Tell me what's gotten you so upset," Fenton requested, the concern clearly evident in his voice.

"Promise you won't think I'm crazy?" Joe said nervously.

"I thought we established that fact years ago," Fenton joked, trying to get Joe to relax a little.

"Right," Joe smiled at his father. "Promise you won't think I'm crazier than usual?"

"I promise. Now what is it that has you so upset?"

Joe took a deep breath, not sure where to start.

"The beginning is usually the best place," Fenton said knowingly.

"The night I was in jail I had this dream. It was about a little boy who was locked in a room somewhere. He was confused and really scared. A man came in and told the little boy his parents were dead. He said _"You belong to us now and you better do as your told."_ The little boy kept crying for his daddy. The man slapped him and told him to shut up." Without even realizing it, Joe put his hand to his cheek, just as he had done when he awoke from the dream.

Fenton tried not to let his emotions show on his face as a knot began to form in the pit of his stomach. His mouth was so dry he wasn't sure he could speak. "Was that all?" he asked quietly.

"The man told him no one was coming for him and he had to do what they told him to do." Joe shuddered, remembering that first dream vividly. "He was so scared, Dad, and I could feel it. I could _feel_ how terrified he was."

"I can certainly understand how that would upset you," Fenton replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Yesterday after I got home, I tried to sleep for a while but…the little boy came back," Joe said, the little boy's fear creeping into his voice. "The same man was there, forcing him to watch something on T.V. Whatever it was scared the little boy. He kept closing his eyes and turning away." Joe's voice dropped. "The man kept hitting him, telling him he better watch or else he'd get a real beating."

Fenton's eyes began to water as the past came rushing back to him. As if the man were standing right next to him, he heard the voice of the emergency room doctor who had examined Joe right after he'd been found.

"_The good news is there is no evidence of any kind of sexual abuse," the doctor said. _

"_Thank God!" Fenton let out a huge sigh of relief, holding his little boy tighter. Six-year-old Joe was clinging to his father, eyes wide with fear, shaking uncontrollably. Exhausted from crying, he did not speak and made no sound at all except for an occasional whimper. _

"_It's okay, Joey." Fenton rubbed his back soothingly. "Daddy's here."_

"_The bad news," the doctor continued, "is that he has bruises, welts and abrasions over most of his body. Someone obviously beat him…more than once." _

_Fenton choked back the rage he felt at the people who could do this to a helpless little boy. _

"_But he'll be all right?" _

"_Yes, physically he'll be fine." _

_Fenton raised his eyebrows at the doctor's implication. _

"_You were adamant that he be checked for any sign of sexual abuse or molestation. You apparently had a reason to believe that could have happened." Glancing at the obviously traumatized little boy, he continued. "You may want to consider taking him to a child psychologist." _

"_That's my next stop," Fenton replied, soberly._

"So you've dreamt about this little boy twice now," Fenton said. Blinking back the tears, he watched Joe closely. Clearly there was something more. Joe seemed to be debating whether or not he could trust his father enough to share it.

"Joe, look at me," he said softly.

Joe met his father's steady gaze, but quickly looked away. This was going to be much harder than he had anticipated.

"Whatever it is, it's obviously bothering you a great deal. You need to get it out," Fenton continued in the same soft voice. Pulling his chair closer to Joe's, he reached out and took Joe's hand in his. The gnawing in the pit of his stomach, and Joe's increasing anxiety, told him Joe had dreamt about much more than just being beaten by Tilghman and his men. "You can tell me anything, Joe. Anything at all."

Joe finally looked at his father, tears in his eyes.

"Last night I dreamt about children…little children…" he stopped, choking back a sob.

Seeing his own child in such pain, Fenton wanted to tell Joe he didn't have to say anything more, that he knew exactly what horrors Joe had seen in this dream, but he knew he couldn't. As far as Joe was concerned, it really was just a terrible dream and not a memory of something he had actually witnessed.

"It's okay, Joe." Fenton rubbed his back reassuringly. "Just let it out."

Joe looked at his father with haunted eyes. "They were being abused…molested..." His voice was so low it was almost inaudible. "…_raped_." He drew in a ragged, shallow breath. "What's wrong with me, Dad? What does it mean? Why would I dream about anything so…repulsive?" Joe shuddered, closing his eyes. "God, what's wrong with me?" he whispered.

Fenton pulled Joe to him, hugging his son tightly. He knew this was the next step to Joe remembering everything. He had secretly hoped the flashbacks would be the extent of Joe's recollection of that weekend and he would never have to face the unspeakable things he had seen.

After watching the videotapes that had been confiscated from Tilghman, Fenton had been so disturbed by what he saw that he had gone to a therapist for a few months himself. He couldn't begin to comprehend how traumatizing it must have been for Joe, to be forced to watch as it actually happened. He finally admitted to himself it was simply a matter of time before Joe remembered everything and prayed that with therapy and the love and support of his family, Joe would eventually be able to come to terms with it.

"There is _nothing_ wrong with you, Joe," he said with conviction. "Absolutely nothing." He sat back and looked Joe in the eyes. "You've been under more stress these past few weeks than most people deal with in an entire lifetime. I can't explain why it's manifesting itself in this way, but it does not mean there is something wrong with you and it definitely does not mean you are going crazy." His heart broke at the doubt he saw in Joe's eyes. "You are a good decent, person. You've made all of us proud. Please don't think this makes you a bad person. You have no control over your dreams. They are not you."

Joe nodded and sat quietly for a moment. Looking at his father, his eyes were filled with pain and sadness. "It was just so real. How could anyone do that to a child?"

"That's something I'll never understand, son," Fenton said shaking his head.

Joe wiped at his eyes and straightened his shoulders as if shaking off the horrible dream. "Thanks, Dad."

"Please remember, you can always talk to me, Joe. About anything. I'll always be here. Okay?"

"Okay," Joe replied.

Fenton now realized he should be very afraid. Joe was under the impression these were just very bad dreams and it was close to pushing him over the edge. A feeling of dread came over him and slowly began to build. He couldn't even begin to imagine what was going to happen when Joe finally remembered the truth.


	10. Chapter 10

Alicia: LOL!! You hit it on the head!! I never liked the way Callie and Joe didn't get along in the Casefiles, either. PLUS I never thought Frank would stay with someone who thought so little of his brother, since they are so close. So I decided to write the kind of Callie I wanted to see; the kind of girl I thought Frank would fall in love with. And, I promise, no more ripping Frank and Joe apart. As for Joe and Fenton… the road to reconciliation has many twists and turns. ;-)

Cheryl: Thank you, my friend! You are the best! :-)

Miss Fenway: Well… yeah, it might get worse before it gets better.

Calathiel: I do like my angst! :p

Phx: No speedos!! :0 Hope this chapter amazes you. ;-)

Tra San: I love your reviews! :D He made need more than one roll of duct tape before the story ends.

Helen: Thanks for not stringing Fenton up by his thumbs! LOL!

**Innocent**

**Chapter 10**

"Are you ready to get started?" Fenton Hardy asked.

Joe just shrugged. "Don't have much choice, I guess."

"I'll go get Frank and Andrew." Fenton stood and walked to the door then turned to look back at Joe. He had laid his arms on the table and was resting his head on his arms, eyes closed. With a heavy heart, Fenton wondered if he would ever see his carefree, wisecracking son again.

As Fenton entered Andrew's office, he saw Frank glance at him and then do a double take.

"What's wrong? Didn't it go well with Joe?"

"It went fine."

"Then what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Frank was becoming uneasy.

"Not me. Joe. He's starting to dream about the time Tilghman had him. Apparently in very vivid detail. It's really shaken him up."

Frank was on his feet instantly. "I'll go talk to him."

"Don't let on that you know about the dreams."

"Dad, I'm tired of lying to him!" Frank snapped.

"I just mean don't tell him I told you. See if you can get him to tell you about the dreams himself. It was extremely difficult for him to tell me. Maybe he'll open up to you a little easier."

Frank nodded and left, his concern for Joe increasing with each passing second. Entering the conference room, he stopped for a moment and studied his younger brother, Joe unaware he was being watched.

"Hey, little brother."

Joe smiled and looked up at the sound of Frank's voice. "Hey, big brother."

"How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay."

"How's Vanessa? Does she know about the article yet?"

Joe's smile vanished. "Yeah. She saw it last night on the Internet." His eyes started to water. "Can you believe she didn't tell me because she didn't know _I_ had seen it and she didn't want to upset _me_?"

"How did you find out?"

"I heard her crying this morning." He shook his head, anger suddenly blazing in his blue eyes. "If I ever see Jennifer Gregg I'll…"

"Don't say it, Joe!" Frank warned. "Threatening to kill people is one of the things that got you here in the first place," he said, half-joking.

"Don't remind me. How come I got all the temper in the family and you didn't get any?" Joe asked, sourly.

"It's just a matter of learning how to control it," Frank replied, smiling. Turning serious again he continued, "So how did she take it?"

Joe squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the scene from that morning. Vanessa had been extremely upset by the article, not only because everyone who read it would now know she had been raped, but also because of the way it had portrayed Joe. When Joe finally got her to tell him what had her so upset, she broke down and sobbed. She also cancelled the plans she had with Laura to go visit Shauna Campbell; something they had been doing since Shauna was released from the hospital. Joe was heartsick that all the progress Vanessa had made in the past week seemed to be wiped out by one insensitive, careless individual.

"Not too good, I take it?" Frank squeezed Joe's shoulder.

"Not good at all."

"Listen, Joe. It's inevitable that she's going to have some setbacks along the way, but she's tough. And so are you. You're both going to come out of this stronger than ever, you'll see."

"Thanks," Joe said gratefully.

"So how are you really doing? You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?"

"I'm fine, _Mom_," Joe teased. "Just a little tired, that's all."

"You look more than a little tired to me." Frank peered closely at him, ignoring the 'Mom' jab. "Just how much sleep have you been getting? And why are you having trouble sleeping? Normally, you could sleep through World War Three."

Joe smiled at his brother's over protectiveness, but hesitated before answering him. Once again, he debated whether or not to tell Frank about the dreams.

"I've just been having some…strange…dreams lately. No big deal."

Frank pulled up a chair next to Joe. "Would it help to talk about it?"

Joe studied his brother carefully. They had just gotten their close relationship back and he didn't want to do or say anything to endanger it again. What would Frank think of him if he knew about these hideous dreams?

"Joe, no matter what you dream about, it doesn't change who you are. And it certainly can't change what I think of you," Frank said encouragingly.

Joe looked down at his hands and then back up into his brothers concerned face, still not quite sure.

"You can tell me anything. You know that."

Joe took a deep breath and was just about to speak when the door opened and Fenton and Andrew came in. Frank turned and glared at his father, who realized he hadn't given Frank enough time.

"Good morning, Joe," Andrew greeted him.

"Hi, Mr. Worth."

"Shall we start?"

"No!" Frank said angrily.

Jumping up, he grabbed Joe by the arm, dragging him past a stunned Fenton and Andrew, out of the conference room and down the hall to Andrew's office where he slammed the door so hard Joe jumped. Turning to his brother, Frank let loose.

"I've had enough, Joe! I'm tired of you thinking you can handle everything all by yourself. Why do you always have to be such a tough guy, anyway? I want to help you but I can't if you won't open up to me!"

Joe simply stared at Frank, astounded by his outburst. Frank never lost his cool like that. Joe wasn't quite sure how to react. Unfortunately, Frank mistook his silence for stubbornness and continued his tirade.

"It's _me_, Joe. Your brother. I know you; sometimes better than you know yourself. Whatever it is that's bothering you is going to tear you apart if you don't talk about it. If the situation were reversed would you just stand by and watch me suffer?"

Joe shook his head no, still somewhat intimidated by the shocking change in his brother.

"And is there anything I could ever tell you that would make you think less of me or stop loving me?"

"No," he said quietly understanding what Frank meant. Realizing that was exactly what he had been waiting to hear, everything suddenly came out in a rush.

He told Frank about that first dream he had the night he spent in jail; how the little boy would not leave him alone; how the dreams got progressively worse culminating in the horrible dream he'd had the previous night and the unspeakable images he could not get out of his head. He told his brother it had gotten so bad that he was afraid to close his eyes and was lucky if he got two hours sleep a night before the children and their abusers reappeared once again.

Frank hadn't grasped how bad the dreams really were when his father mentioned them and tried to hide his distress. One thought was nagging at him and even though he knew it could be the catalyst for Joe to suddenly remember everything, he had to know.

"This little boy – is he in all your dreams?" Frank asked, cautiously.

"Every one," Joe nodded.

"What does he look like?" It was obvious to Frank that the little boy was Joe. If the dreams were so vivid and real, and the little boy appeared in every one, Frank couldn't figure out why Joe hadn't recognized himself.

Joe opened his mouth to answer and realized he couldn't.

"I don't know," he said, surprised.

"Don't you see him? You see all the other children."

"No! I never realized it before but I've never actually _seen_ him. I can see what he sees, like I'm looking through his eyes. And I can feel what he feels." Again, Joe put a hand to his cheek, completely unaware he had done so. "But I've never actually _seen_ him." He looked at Frank questioningly.

"That's kind of odd, but not unheard of," Frank said_. 'No wonder he doesn't recognize himself!' _

"Frank, does this mean… I'm going crazy?" Joe asked fearfully.

"You can't be going crazy. You're already there; have been for years," Frank said trying to lighten the mood.

Joe smiled for a moment before turning serious again. "I just can't believe this is happening to me. Last month I was trying to come up with creative excuses to avoid having to look at china patterns at Macy's," he laughed nervously, trying to cover his increasing anxiety. "You don't know what I'd give to be looking at those stupid patterns right now." He met his brother's eyes. "Frank, I don't want to go to prison," he whispered.

Frank put his hand on Joe's shoulder, reassuringly. "You won't, bro. Not if I have anything to say about it."


	11. Chapter 11

Cheryl, Phx, Alicia (your enthusiastic reviews always make me laugh out loud! :-)), Helen, Miss Fenway, pallysam (I love Joe drama! ;-) ) and Calathiel – THANK YOU for your supportive comments! MissMe113, welcome and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Thank you to everyone for reading. :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 11**

Frank led his brother back to the conference room where they took seats across from Fenton and Andrew.

"Okay, let's get started," Frank said, offering no further explanation for their abrupt departure a few minutes before.

Watching his youngest son closely, Fenton could see that although Joe was still nervous about the trial and very tired from lack of sleep, he seemed more relaxed than he had been earlier. He leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. He could almost see the bond between his sons growing stronger by the minute.

'_Take that, Taylor.' _

Fenton refocused his attention on Andrew Worth, who was about to lay out the options for Joe's defense.

"First off, we all know you are innocent," Andrew said, looking at Joe. "However, you know the criminal justice system as well as anyone. Just because you're innocent, doesn't guarantee a verdict of not guilty.

"There are a couple of different ways we can go with this. Obviously, the best-case scenario is that Frank and your father find the evidence to prove your innocence and you are cleared of all charges. Unfortunately, that could take time since they don't even know what it is they are looking for; let alone where to start looking.

"Since the prosecution presents their case first, that buys us a little more time. Dennis has a lot of witnesses to call." Andrew gestured towards the pile of witness statements. "The bad news is, every single one of these witnesses is some type of law enforcement officer or private investigator. And their statements are virtually identical, making them all a lot more credible, even though it's still all circumstantial evidence."

"What do they say?" Joe asked, not quite sure he really wanted to know.

"Basically they say you and Taylor were already struggling for your gun when they arrived; you got control of the gun; Taylor surrendered after exchanging words with your father; he started to raise his hands as you ordered him to do and the gun was fired."

Joe stared at the rather large pile of statements but said nothing.

"Dennis has agreed to wait and call you, Frank and Evan Graham as his last three witnesses," Andrew said, speaking to Fenton.

"I understand about Dad and Frank but why Evan?" Joe asked, referring to the young Bayport Police Department officer he had been riding with the night Taylor died.

"I believe during the briefing that night, Chief Collig specifically instructed everyone that should they find Chris Taylor, they were to wait for back up before moving in," Andrew responded.

"Call for back up," Joe corrected him. "And we did. If we hadn't, Dennis wouldn't have all these eye witnesses to use against me." Joe said disgustedly, thinking how following the rules so often seemed to land him in trouble.

"Ok, call for back up." Andrew paused and shuffled through the stack of papers pulling Evan's statement from the pile. "Evan says he told you to wait until back up arrived before moving in. He also says he tried to physically restrain you but you pulled away and went after Taylor on your own, anyway." He looked up at Joe. "Is that true?"

Joe looked at his father who was obviously hearing this for the first time. He didn't even want to see the look on Frank's face.

"Yes, I did pull away from him- " Joe started to answer.

"Joe, _why_?" his father asked, upset. "We were specifically instructed to wait for back up!"

"No, we were not!" Joe replied getting angry. "Chief Collig said call for back up – CALL – not wait. And if I had waited that women would have been raped before any of you arrived to help. Were Evan and I supposed to stand by and watch that happen?!"

"If that's the case, then it's good that you didn't wait for help," Andrew jumped in trying to head off the explosion he saw coming between father and son. "No juror would hold that against you. In fact, if you _had_ waited they would question why you stood by and let a woman be raped when there were two of you there to apprehend the suspect. Don't worry, Joe. That will end up working in your favor."

"You said there were a couple of ways to go, Mr. Worth," Frank finally spoke also trying to diffuse the situation between Joe and Fenton. "What else were you thinking of?"

Andrew sat silently for a moment – a very long and uncomfortable moment.

"It's not something any of you are going to like. But you're paying me to do everything possible to keep Joe out of prison. I wouldn't be doing that if I didn't consider all the options. There is no guarantee you are going to be able to find the evidence we need. It would be foolish to focus on that one line of defense to the exclusion of all others."

Joe got a sinking feeling in his stomach, knowing with absolute certainty he was not going to like Andrew's second "option."

"We don't like any of this, Andrew," Fenton said, tiredly. "And you're right; we are paying you to do whatever it takes to keep Joe from being convicted – whether we like the methods or not. If we can't find the evidence we need in time, what do you suggest as the next line of defense?"

Andrew took a deep breath and steeled himself for the verbal assault he knew would follow.

"Temporary insanity."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Can't thank you enough for all your wonderful comments! **Thank** **you** for reading and reviewing!

**Innocent**

**Chapter 12**

There was stunned silence for a minute before Fenton and Frank both exploded.

"Absolutely not!" Fenton cried out.

"No!" Frank yelled. "He is not crazy!"

As Frank and his father continued their loud protest, Joe remained uncharacteristically silent; something that did not go unnoticed by Andrew. When the yelling finally died down, Andrew looked at Joe.

"Joe, your opinion is the most important of all and you haven't said a word. How do you feel about it?" he asked.

Frank stared at his younger brother, just now realizing he hadn't commented at all.

"Joe," he said softly. "You can't really be considering an insanity defense." Frank gripped his brother's arm tightly. "You are not crazy!"

Joe looked at him with haunted eyes, images from the dreams flashing through his mind.

"How do you know that?" Joe replied quietly.

Frank looked at his father, anger written all over his face. "We need to talk…now!" he growled and stormed out of the room.

"Excuse me," Fenton said, following Frank out of the room.

"Sorry," Joe said to Andrew, somewhat embarrassed at the outburst.

"For what, Joe? None of this is your fault. You were a victim of horrible circumstances."

"Thanks."

"I take it by your silence that you might be considering the temporary insanity defense?" Andrew prodded.

"Would it keep me out of prison?" Joe asked, answering Andrew's question with one of his own.

"A not guilty by reason of temporary insanity would. However, it would result in your being confined to a mental facility until the doctors deemed you were no longer a threat to yourself or society. And since we know you aren't, you would probably be out fairly quickly. Once you were discharged, you'd be free. No prison time."

"But I'd probably never work as a private investigator again, right? Or in any kind of law enforcement. Not with a documented history of mental illness," Joe said sadly.

"Probably not," Andrew concurred. "There is something else to consider. If do you go that route, you are essentially saying you _did_ kill Chris Taylor, but you didn't realize what you were doing at the time. Are you absolutely sure you want to do that considering it's not true?"

Joe rested his head in his hands and thought of Vanessa. If Frank and his father couldn't find the evidence they needed to clear him, he would almost surely be convicted and receive a lengthy prison sentence, possibly a life sentence.

_'I can't disappear from her life and leave her to try to cope with this alone. Not when it was all my fault to begin with.' _

If he went with the temporary insanity defense, he would be admitting to a crime he did not commit and be institutionalized for a short period of time; but eventually they would be together again. Even though everyone, including Vanessa, had been telling Joe none of this was his fault, he still felt completely responsible for the mess Vanessa's life had become. Most people thought he was guilty anyway and what he did for a living after all this was over was irrelevant. Vanessa had to be his number one priority. But could he live with himself if he lied about killing Chris Taylor? Even to be with Vanessa? How would she react if he did that? She had been so supportive of him right from the start, believing in him without question when no one else did. He realized he would need to discuss this with her before deciding what to do.

"Do I have a little time to think about it?" Joe asked. "I'd really like to talk to Vanessa about it."

"There's no need to make a decision on it today, Joe. It's just another option to consider. One that would keep you out of prison. But if Frank and your Dad can find enough evidence to prove your innocence, this is a moot point," Andrew reminded him.

oooOOOooo

Out in the hall, Frank was boiling over with anger at the entire situation his brother was in and took it out on his father.

"I don't care what Dr. Lange says, I don't care what you think is best, I don't care about anyone but Joe and he truly believes he is losing his mind! Dad, you have to tell him those dreams are real!!" he yelled.

"Frank, _please_, keep your voice down," Fenton whispered harshly, looking at the stares of people walking by. "Don't you think I realize that? I just don't know if this is the best time to do it."

"When is?" Frank hissed at him. "When he really does have a mental breakdown?"

"We have no idea how he's going to react when he finds out. He may take it all in stride, he may get upset but cope with it well enough, or he may go off the deep end. If that happens, he may not be convicted but you can bet the 'insanity' won't be temporary. We could conceivably lose him forever - not physically but mentally." Fenton sighed deeply. "Do you really think I want to see Joe like this? I can't afford to take a chance and make the wrong decision. We really are playing with his mental stability here. How big a risk are you willing to take with your brother's mental health?"

Frank saw the pain in his father's eyes and immediately regretted his outburst. His father was just as concerned about Joe as he was. And he knew everything his father had said was true.

"Dad, we can't just sit by and let him think they're just dreams. If he knows he's remembering something from his past, at least he won't think he's crazy."

"Frank, you see how upset he is when he thinks they're just dreams. How do you think he'll react when he finds out he really did see all those things, _while_ they were happening? Do you honestly think he'll just take it all in stride after a few therapy sessions?"

Frank stared at his father, completely at a loss for words.

"All I did was watch some videotapes of what they did to those children. I was in therapy for months and I was an adult. Joe witnessed it as it was happening and he was only six years old at the time. It took me a long time to admit this to myself and I know it's not what you want to hear, but when he remembers it's going to be devastating…for all of us."

Frank sighed heavily and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Okay, so what do we do next?" he asked his father. Images of the flashbacks he had watched Joe suffer through played themselves across the darkness of his closed eyes. Those brief scenes haunted him so deeply he couldn't even fathom what Joe was going through.

"I'm going to call Chief Collig and see if he can arrange a search warrant for Taylor's apartment. If we're very lucky, the evidence we need will be right there," he said hopefully, pulling out his cell phone. "Everything that's happened in the past few weeks is more than anyone should be asked to deal with. This is more stress than Joe can handle and that's what's causing these dreams to come on so quickly. If we can eliminate some of the stress…well, he's still going to remember but maybe he'll be able to deal with it better."

Frank nodded, realizing his father's assessment was right on the mark.

"Go in and tell Joe you're going to be leaving to start looking for evidence."

Frank tried to protest but Fenton stopped him.

"I know you want to be here to support Joe and I know he wants you here. But you'll be doing him a lot more good if you can find that evidence and we can put this whole thing behind us."

Frank turned and went back into the conference room. Taking a seat next to Joe, he looked at his brother's face. No words were needed; Frank knew if he couldn't come up with the evidence to prove Joe was innocent, Joe was going to proceed with the temporary insanity defense in order to avoid prison.

_'No way, bro. I'm not going to let you take the blame for something you didn't do.' _

"Listen, Joe. You know I want to be here with you, but I need to start looking for evidence. I know it's out there somewhere and the sooner I find it, the sooner this whole thing will be over."

Joe smiled at him, knowing how lucky he was to have a brother who cared so much about him.

"And if you need to talk, just call me, okay?"

"Okay," Joe replied.

Frank reached forward and hugged Joe tightly. "I love you, little brother," he whispered and quickly got up to leave.

Joe watched as Frank stopped and spoke briefly with their father before disappearing down the hall.

_'I love you too, big brother.' _

His father returned to the conference room, shutting the door behind him, and so began a long, draining afternoon of planning the details of Joe's defense.

oooOOOooo

By the time Joe pulled into the parking space below his apartment that evening, he was mentally exhausted. Between the dreams, lack of sleep, the thoughts of a prison sentence and the possibility of having to spend time in a mental facility he just wanted to grab Vanessa and run away, leaving all their problems behind.

As he got out of his car, he looked up and saw Vanessa curled up in a lounge chair on the balcony. The weather had once again turned unseasonably warm and he was glad to see her taking advantage of it. He knew she had been rattled by the articles in _The Bayport Times_ and hadn't left the apartment today. He smiled and waved at her and was glad to see she returned both.

Making his way up the stairs, he entered the apartment where Andrea was waiting for him, with a look on her face that he did not like at all.

"What happened?" he asked, not knowing how much more he could take today.

Andrea shook her head. "She needs to tell you herself," she said simply, gathering up her things. Kissing him on the cheek, she left, hoping Vanessa would talk to Joe right away and get everything out in the open.

Joe walked to the sliding glass door and stood looking out at his fiancé, who was staring out at the early evening sky. Rubbing his eyes, Joe took a deep breath and stepped out onto the balcony.

"Hey, gorgeous," he smiled at Vanessa. Pulling her up, he sat down on the chair and gently pulled her onto his lap.

"Hi," she smiled, and kissed him softly.

It was obvious to Joe she had been crying and that something was bothering her. She leaned her head against his chest and he held her for a few minutes, silently stroking her hair.

"So do you want to talk about it?" he finally asked.

She sighed heavily and sat up so she could look at him.

"Krista called me today," she began.

"Mm-hmm," Joe responded, recognizing the name of Vanessa's supervisor from work.

"She wanted to know if I had any idea when I might be coming back to work."

Joe pushed a lock of hair off her shoulder. "Take as much time as you need, Baby. Don't let them pressure you into going back if you're not ready."

"I can't go back there, Joe. _Ever_. It's the last place I was before…" She stopped and took a deep breath, determined not to cry again. It seemed like all she did anymore was cry and she was growing tired of it. "If I even think of walking through those doors, I just start to panic."

Joe pulled her back in and held her against him, knowing what was coming next.

"I'm sorry, Joe. I told Krista I wouldn't be coming back to work at all. I quit."

"It's okay, Baby. You don't have to go back there."

"I know we need both our paychecks to get by."

"No, we don't, Van. We can get by just fine on my salary for a while," Joe said reassuringly. "Don't worry, Babe. We'll be just fine." Joe prayed his voice did not betray what he was really thinking.

'_Rent, two car payments, utilities, food, a honeymoon…if that even happens at all,'_ Joe thought. _'What else can possibly go wrong?'_


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your wonderful reviews! :-)

**Innocent **

**Chapter 13**

"How did it go today?" Vanessa asked, not lifting her head from Joe's shoulder. She wasn't sure she believed Joe when he said they could get by on his salary alone, but felt now wasn't the time for a serious discussion about their financial situation.

"Okay…I guess," Joe replied.

"That sounds ominous. Just how okay was it?"

"Andrew gave me a few different options for my defense."

"You shouldn't need options!" Vanessa said angrily. "You're innocent! Any idiot knows that."

Joe laughed, running his fingers through her hair. "Spoken like the neutral observer that you are."

Vanessa smacked him lightly on the arm and continued. "Seriously, why would anyone believe you killed Chris Taylor? You had the chance to kill the man who was responsible for Iola's death and instead you tried to save his life."

Immediately Joe thought back to that day in the mall, when Al-Rousasa was hanging onto the third floor balcony by his fingertips. Joe had indeed thought briefly of stomping on his fingers, causing him to fall three stories to his death. Instead, Joe had reached down and tried to save him.

"Does it make any sense that you would try to save a murderer and a few years later kill someone else over a rape? I don't think so. It doesn't make any sense at all."

"Let's hope the jury agrees with you," Joe smiled sadly.

"Of course they will," Vanessa said confidently. "How could they _not_ after everything you've done for this community?" She could see in his eyes, he wasn't nearly as certain about the verdict as she was.

"Okay," she sighed. "What options – other than proving you are innocent – did he give you?"

Joe remained silent as his face clouded over with worry once again.

"Joe, what else did he say?" Vanessa asked again.

"There is one way I could avoid prison even if they think I'm guilty," he replied avoiding her eyes.

"And that is…what?"

Joe took a deep breath but found he had trouble saying the words out loud.

"Joe, what is it?" Vanessa asked becoming concerned at his unusual silence.

"Temporary insanity," he said quietly.

Vanessa stared at him, dumbfounded. "_What_?! You can't be serious!"

"It would keep me out of prison and…"

"NO!" Vanessa said, anger flaring in her eyes. "Absolutely not! You will NOT admit to a crime you didn't commit. Not for me or anyone else!" She looked at him closely, and saw he was seriously considering this. "Joe, you'd never be able to live with yourself."

"If I'm convicted, I'll go to prison, Van. Maybe for the rest of my life. I can't leave you to deal with this…this mess…alone. This way we'd be together. Well, after I was released, anyway."

"Released? From where?" Vanessa became alarmed. "If there's no prison time where would you be going?"

"The hospital," he answered, again unable to meet her gaze.

"Hospital? What hospital?" she said and then gasped, understanding exactly what he meant. "Joe…"

He looked everywhere except at Vanessa. Taking his chin in her hands, she forced him to meet her eyes.

"Joe, you are _not_ insane. Not permanently. Not temporarily. Not at all," she said, softly.

"That's just it," he whispered. "I think I am."

Vanessa pulled him close, holding him tightly. "No, Baby. You're not. You're under a lot of stress right now, that's all." She felt a small stab of guilt. _'And my neediness hasn't helped at all!' _

"You don't understand, Van," he choked out. "The dreams…the children…" Suddenly everything came rushing out. Unable to stop himself, he told Vanessa about the horrible dreams he'd been having, starting with the first one the night he was in jail and concluding with the awful images that had awakened him the night before.

When Joe was finished, Vanessa looked at him, stunned.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before now?" she asked.

"You're kidding, right?" Joe looked at her skeptically and then realized she was serious. "I figured you already had more than enough to worry about without adding me to your problems."

Vanessa shook her head realizing she had been so caught up in herself she hadn't seen how much Joe had been suffering.

"You are not a problem. You are the love of my life and the man I am going to marry."

"If I don't get myself thrown in prison," Joe said disgustedly.

"You _aren't_ going to prison. And you most definitely are not insane, no matter what bizarre things you've been dreaming about." She reached out and stroked his cheek. "I'm so sorry I haven't been here for you."

"Vanessa, don't…" Joe began, but she put a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"Let me finish." She smiled, recalling Dr. Jennings advice that one of the best ways to move forward in her recovery was to help someone else. "You've rearranged your entire life for me these past few weeks. Your whole world has revolved around me and my needs. You've been here for me twenty-four hours a day and done everything I've asked without question. Even when I haven't asked very nicely. And I haven't even thanked you for it." She kissed him softly. "Now let me do the same thing for you. Dr. Jennings said I could help myself by helping someone else. So if you really want to help me get past this, you'll let me be here for you."

Joe was taken aback by Vanessa's speech and wasn't quite sure how to respond. He did know one thing for sure – he felt like the luckiest man on the planet to have found someone that would stand by him through all this.

"We're in this together, Baby," Vanessa said, resting her head on his shoulder once again. "And we're going to be okay."

As they sat and watched the fading sunset, Joe felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time – hope.

oooOOOooo

The following morning, Frank pulled up in front of Phil Cohen's house and saw his friend waiting on the front porch. Phil walked to the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Thanks a lot for helping me out with this, Phil. Are you sure you still want to do it?" Frank asked, giving him one last chance to back out.

"Absolutely," Phil responded. "Anything to help Joe and Vanessa."

Frank had spent the previous afternoon with Chief Collig as they both tried to convince a Clayton Beach judge to issue a search warrant for Chris Taylor's apartment. Unfortunately, the judge didn't see things quite the way Frank did and steadfastly refused. He insisted there was no logical reason why Chris Taylor would surrender only to commit suicide and thought Frank's idea that Joe had been set up was a last ditch effort to get his brother off the hook. In his opinion, there was no evidence for Frank to find so there was no need for a search warrant.

Frank, however, was determined to get inside Taylor's apartment one way or another. When the legal channels fell through, he felt he had no choice but to resort to "less than legal means" to gain access to the apartment.

_'I've done it before for other people. And this time it's for my brother,'_ Frank had thought in an effort to justify his actions.

He hadn't told his father or Joe what he was planning to do even though he knew he would feel better with some kind of back up. Although reluctant to ask his friend to break the law, he had never the less called Phil, who readily agreed to help.

"If we do find something that might help Joe, then what?" Phil asked. "It would be inadmissible in court since it would have been obtained illegally."

"I know. If we find anything, we're going to leave it right where it is and then I'll tell Dad what we did. He's got enough friends in high places that owe him favors that he can pressure someone to get a search warrant. Then we can get whatever is in there legally."

"Why didn't he just do that in the first place?"

"He doesn't seem to think Taylor would leave whatever it is in his apartment. Dad thinks he has it hidden somewhere else. Somewhere more secure or someplace we wouldn't think of looking for it. He wants to save any favors in case we need them down the road."

"That makes a certain amount of sense. You don't agree with him?"

"Well, yes I do, but we have absolutely no idea where to start looking. I don't expect to find concrete evidence to clear Joe just lying around Taylor's apartment. But I'm hoping we might find something that will lead us to wherever it is that he actually hid the evidence."

"Still if it comes out that any part of this was done illegally…"

"It won't come out!" Frank said hotly.

Phil saw Frank was in no mood for a game of Devil's Advocate and changed the subject. "How's Joe doing? And Vanessa?"

Frank sighed and remained quiet for a moment. He had spoken to Joe earlier that morning and was starting to think if it wasn't for bad luck, his brother would have no luck at all.

"Vanessa quit her job yesterday. She can't face going back there. It reminds her too much of the rape."

"Really?" Phil asked in astonishment.

"Yeah. Joe insists they can get by on his salary alone, at least for a while. It's a good thing he works in a 'family business' or he would have been fired by now and they'd have no income at all," Frank said, obviously frustrated that his brother's life just seemed to get worse by the minute. "Earth to Phil…" Frank joked when he noticed his friend hadn't responded.

"You know, I've been wanting to add a separate graphics department to my company for the longest time. I'd like to eventually spin it off into it's own company. I've got some decent people to staff it, but I just haven't been able to find anyone I trust enough to run the whole department - and eventually the company itself. My expertise isn't really in graphics. I'd need someone I really had faith in. Someone I know could do the job without constantly running to me for advice." Phil finished his little speech and looked at Frank with raised eyebrows.

"Vanessa?" Frank said surprised, just now realizing what Phil was suggesting.

"Why are you so surprised? She can work magic with computer graphics and she's worked in her mother's company for so many years I know she has the business end of it down pat."

"It's a great idea, Phil, but I don't know if the timing is right. She's still recovering and now she has to deal with Joe's trial…"

"She doesn't have to start tomorrow, for goodness sake. And initially she could do most of the work from home. It's going to involve a lot of strategy and planning just to get it off the ground. I've waited this long, there's no hurry to get it going immediately. And that would eliminate the worry of her having to look for another job. That's stressful enough all by itself. It sounds like more stress is the last thing they need."

Frank shook his head, smiling. "You're a good friend, Phil."

"I'm just taking advantage of an opportunity," Phil replied, smiling back. "You think it would be okay if I gave her a call just to talk to her about it? See if she's even interested?"

"I think it would be very okay," Frank replied, once again thankful for the good friends he and his brother had.

…

A short time later, Frank and Phil arrived at Chris Taylor's apartment building. As they approached the door to his apartment, Frank checked to make sure the hall was clear.

"Keep a lookout and let me know if anyone is coming," Frank told Phil, kneeling in front of the door.

'_I sure could use Joe's help right about now,'_ Frank thought ironically. While Frank could extract a single piece of vital information from the Internet in the blink of an eye, Joe had it all over him when it came to picking locks. It seemed to Frank as if it took forever before the lock finally popped open. He stood and entered the apartment followed closely by Phil.

"Wait'll I tell Joe how long it took you to get the door open," Phil needled his friend, earning him a dirty look from Frank.

"You start in the bedroom and I'll start out here," Frank said looking around the small living room. "We're looking for anything that shows Taylor was obsessed with Joe or had some kind of grudge against him. Anything at all."

Two hours later, Frank stood in the middle of the apartment totally dejected. They hadn't found one single thing that could be used to help Joe.

"I don't get it," Frank said, frustrated. "Taylor was completely obsessed with his stupid vendetta against Joe! The guy was a genius and a meticulous planner. He had no idea he would be caught that night, let alone that he would die. He had absolutely no reason to destroy whatever notes or records he had kept."

"Well, we need to figure out where he kept them, because they're obviously not here," Phil replied.

Frank frowned in concentration for a moment before his eyes lit up.

"Uh, oh. Here we go again," Phil said. "What revelation have you had this time?"

"Let's go," Frank said, totally ignoring Phil's question as he rushed out of the apartment.

"Where are we going?" Phil asked running to keep up with Frank.

Frank stopped short and whirled around to face his friend. "To prison!"


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: So, so sorry this is late!! Real life interfered more than it normally does! Worked on Saturday, spent most of Saturday night at the local animal E.R. with my doggie and had to leave him there overnight for monitoring. :-( Sunday I had to attend a graduation party for my niece and then a birthday party for my two-year-old great niece (where I got to meet Dora the Explorer! WOO-HOO! LOL!) and in between pick up my baby from the doggie hospital, take him home and get him settled in. Add the fact that where I live was SMACK in the middle of that deadly extreme heat wave that blanketed the entire east coast of the U.S. for four days, my house was built in 1950 and I don't have central air conditioning… yeah, well just breathing was too much of an effort!

So there ya go. That's my tale of woe and hopefully a moderately acceptable excuse for the lateness of this update. And because I feel like pond scum I'll post two chapters today to try and make up for it.

Thank you to all you wonderful people who are so supportive of this story and continue to read and send those awesome reviews. You guys rock! :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 14**

Joe Hardy sat in one of the conference rooms of Andrew Worth's law firm, staring out the window at the bright blue morning sky. It was just a short time ago that he would have taken that sky and the freedom to look at if for granted. Now with a possible prison sentence hanging over his head, he wondered how many more skies he would be looking at before he was peering at them through windows with bars on them.

"Joe?"

"Huh?" Joe was snapped out of his wayward thoughts by his father's voice. "Sorry, Dad. Guess I wasn't paying attention."

Fenton smiled at his son. "That's understandable, but this is kind of important, don't you think?"

"Yeah, right. Sorry, Mr. Worth," Joe apologized to his lawyer. He did feel badly for not paying attention. Andrew had set aside all his other cases to work solely on Joe's defense; Joe realized the least he could do was pay attention to what was going on.

Watching Joe turn his back on the window and face his lawyer, Fenton felt an all too familiar sadness wash over him. Recently, it had become his constant companion whenever he thought of his youngest son. Looking at Joe, he felt he didn't even know this young man sitting next to him. This was not his son who could light up a room, just by walking in. The sparkling blue eyes were dull and the tan Joe had even in winter was nowhere in sight. Fenton hadn't seen the infectious smile in almost a month and he missed Joe's contagious laugh more than he ever thought possible. Not for the first time, he wondered if he would ever see that happy young man again.

Realizing he was guilty of what he just admonished Joe for, Fenton began listening intently as his son was apparently relating a conversation he'd had with Vanessa the night before.

"Yeah, she was pretty ticked off that anyone would believe I killed Taylor," Joe continued with his story, smiling slightly as he remembered Vanessa's anger. "She said that I'd had the opportunity to kill the person responsible for Iola's death and instead I tried to save him. She said if I didn't kill a murderer when I had the chance, why would I kill a rapist?" Suddenly a thought struck him and he couldn't believe he didn't think of it last night.

'_Man, I really must be tired!'_

"Mr. Worth?" Joe asked tentatively.

"Yes, Joe?"

"Would you be able to use any of that in my defense?" he asked, trying not to get his hopes up.

He noticed Andrew and his father exchanging amused glances and assumed they were trying not to laugh at his suggestion.

"Never mind. I guess that was pretty stupid," he said, thinking he'd just humiliated himself.

"On the contrary, Joe. I'm embarrassed I didn't think of it myself!" Andrew laughed out loud. "That one fact could be all we need to raise a reasonable doubt in the mind's of the jurors. And that's really all we have to do!"

Andrew looked at Fenton and chuckled. "Maybe we should put Vanessa in charge of his defense. By the time she was through with the jury, they wouldn't dare convict him!"

'_Thanks, Babe!'_ Joe thought, with a smile. He actually felt himself start to relax for the first time in…he couldn't remember how long.

oooOOOooo

"Are you going to tell me why we're going to prison or am I supposed to guess?" Phil asked Frank as they drove steadily towards the state penitentiary.

"To visit someone," Frank replied.

"Oh, of course," Phil said sarcastically. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave Frank a dirty look. "Tell me again how it is that Joe hasn't killed you yet for doing this to him for so many years?"

"Doing what?" Frank asked, honestly confused.

"Keeping your brilliant ideas to yourself! You _can_ share, you know. Who am I going to tell?" Phil asked frustrated, waving his arms around the car. "There's no one here but us…and I _thought_ we were working together."

"Am I really that bad?" Frank asked, sheepishly.

"Yes!" Phil said, annoyed. "I'm starting to sympathize with Joe more every day."

"Sorry," Frank flushed, now embarrassed. He had gotten so used to Joe just ignoring him when he kept his ideas to himself, he didn't realize how irritating it must be. He felt a little guilty as he realized Phil was right. _'Guess I've been taking Joe's easy going nature for granted.'_

"Well?" Phil asked.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing or not?" Phil demanded, now completely exasperated.

"Sorry," Frank found himself apologizing yet again. Joe never gave him the third degree; he just waited it out until Frank was ready to tell him or he figured it out for himself. "I want to talk to Jesse Baumgarten again," he said, referring to the inmate who had once worked for Josh Tilghman and had briefly befriended Chris Taylor after his father had died. "I want to see if he knows where Taylor lived before he moved to Clayton Beach. He might even know where Angela Taylor lives," Frank continued, referring to Chris Taylor's mother. "She would probably know his habits better than anyone."

"Wouldn't it just be easier to ask Chief Collig where she lives? Didn't they have to notify her when he died?"

"They couldn't find her. Taylor graduated high school early and left home immediately. Apparently she's moved since then – several times. In Taylor's twisted little mind his father was a hero and his mother was the evil one. Once he left home, he wanted nothing to do with her. As far as I know, she has no idea her son is dead."

Phil shivered. "Man, that guy really was psycho." He glanced out the window at the ominous looking building coming up on their right. "Is that…"

"The prison," Frank confirmed. The thought that he could soon be making regular trips here to visit his brother pushed it's way into his mind. He tried to push it back out, but it settled itself there contentedly, refusing to leave.

"You okay?" Phil asked, concerned at the look on Frank's face.

"Yeah, fine," he said as he pulled up to the guardhouse at the entrance to the visitor's parking lot.

After the car was given a brief search, Frank drove into the lot and parked. He and Phil entered the main doors of the prison and asked to see the warden. The warden remembered Frank from his last visit with Sam Radley and was happy to see him again.

"Good to see you again, Frank," the warden asked after the introduction to Phil had been made. " I was so sorry to hear about Joe. Is that why you're here?"

"Yes. I was hoping to talk to Jesse Baumgarten again. I wanted to ask him a few more questions about Taylor; see if maybe he can give me a lead on where Angela Taylor might be living now."

"Let me see if I can arrange it. I'll be right back."

Within half an hour Frank and Phil were sitting at a table with Jesse Baumgarten who was more than happy to see Frank again.

"Hey, man, thanks for writing that letter to the Parole Board on my behalf," Jesse said, shaking Frank's hand. "I'm getting out in two weeks!" he said excitedly.

"Congratulations," Frank replied, genuinely happy for the man.

"Got a job lined up and everything," Jesse beamed. "But I guess you're not here to see how I'm doing, right?"

"Not really," Frank admitted. He gave Jesse a brief explanation of why they had come to see him. "So I was hoping Taylor might have mentioned to you where he'd come from; where he'd lived with his Mom and stepfather. I know it was a long time ago, but I'm at a dead end. Anything at all you could tell me would be a big help." Frank looked around soberly. "No offense, but I really don't want my kid brother to have to call this place home."

"Can't blame you at all for that. I have a younger brother myself. I don't even like him to visit me here. That's how much I hate this place," Jesse said sympathetically. "Chris had mentioned living in Atlanta once and I think he said he graduated high school in Phoenix. I know he said his Mom moved away after he graduated, but it's a place to start."

"Thanks, Jesse."

"Glad to help. And listen, I think you're on the right track about the evidence. Whenever Chris came to see me, he took meticulous notes. I remember once he said he typed them up and filed them when he got home. Based on how much he hated your brother, I'm sure he has one hell of a file on him somewhere. I hope you find it. I'd really hate to see him end up here."

"So would I," Frank said somberly.

Frank thanked Jesse again for his help and told him to get in touch with he or his father should he need any help once he was released. As Frank drove off the prison grounds headed back to Bayport, he took one last look at the depressing building in his rear view mirror.

'_No way, little brother,' _he thought with a shudder. _'No way will I ever let you set foot in that place.'_


	15. Chapter 15

My peace offering! ;-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 15**

Laura Hardy looked around her dining room table and smiled. Frank, Callie, Joe and Vanessa had joined Laura and Fenton for dinner. She chose to ignore, for the moment, the reason for the family gathering – it was the only chance Frank, Fenton and Joe had to get together that day and discuss Joe's defense. Instead, she focused on having her family together. It seemed that ever since Frank and Joe had moved out on their own, family dinners were a thing of the past, reserved for birthdays and holidays.

Laura smiled as she listened to Vanessa excitedly telling the group about the different wedding dresses she was considering. She hadn't seen Vanessa this animated since before the rape and realized everyone else was thinking the same thing. Vanessa was the center of attention and for the first time in weeks, seemed to be genuinely happy.

"What do you think, Joe? Should I go with the empire waist or something more modern?" Vanessa asked, turning to him.

Joe looked at her stunned, as if she had just asked him _'What is the meaning of life?'_ Joe leaned across the table to his married, older brother.

"Frank! What's an empire waist?" Joe whispered loudly, making sure everyone could hear. "And does it have anything to do with Darth Vader?"

"Joe, I'm serious!" Vanessa said, blushing, as everyone laughed.

"So am I!" Joe retorted. "I don't know an empire waist from the Empire Strikes Back!"

"Come on, Van," Frank said, still chuckling. "You really don't expect him to know what you're talking about. There's only so much room in that little brain of his and it's mostly taken up with useless sports trivia."

"Hey, I resent that!" Joe protested. "Sports trivia is never useless!"

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Maybe I should just wear a white football jersey and be done with it."

"Would you?" Joe grinned at her devilishly. Laughing, he leaned over and kissed Vanessa on the cheek. "Don't worry, Babe. You'll be absolutely gorgeous no matter what you wear."

Frank smiled as he watched Joe and Vanessa, wishing he could stop time right there. It was the first time in he couldn't remember how long that he had seen Joe laughing. The sparkle was back in his blue eyes and he looked relaxed and happy. Unfortunately, Frank knew all that would change when dinner was over and he, Joe and their father retreated to the office to compare notes as to what happened that day. Noticing the look on his father's face, Frank realized he was thinking the same thing and, in fact, seemed to be putting off the inevitable. Dessert had been devoured a while ago and Fenton was on his third cup of coffee, seemingly in no rush to leave the table.

Thirty minutes later, Frank, Fenton and Joe were gathered in the office. Frank found he was nervous, as he had been purposely vague when telling his father what he had planned to do that day. It dawned on him that whenever he and Joe used 'unorthodox' methods during an investigation he always let Joe tell their father about it, if they felt he needed to know at all. Somehow, coming from Joe, Fenton never seemed to get quite as upset as Frank thought he would. Tonight, however, Frank was on his own.

"So, Frank, why don't you go first?" Fenton said, leaning back in his chair.

Panicking when he realized he didn't have Joe's knack for creative explanations, Frank tried to rush over the part he knew his father would be unhappy with.

"Phil and I checked Taylor's apartment today," he said quickly. "We didn't really expect to find -"

"Whoa!" Fenton exclaimed, holding up a hand. "Yesterday you said you couldn't get a search warrant. How did you get the judge to change his mind?"

"Well…uh…" Frank stammered, hoping to be struck with inspiration as so often seemed to happen to Joe.

Joe, for his part, was trying to stifle a laugh, knowing instinctively there had been no search warrant. He sat back, smiling as he watched his older brother squirm under their father's gaze, grateful that for once, it was someone else getting the third degree from Fenton.

"Yeah, Frank. How _did_ you get the judge to change his mind? Must've been one convincing argument," Joe said, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Well, he didn't _exactly_ change his mind," Frank replied, glaring at his brother.

"What did he do…exactly?" Fenton asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Um..nothing, really."

"Nothing?" Fenton repeated, confused. "Then how did you get permission to search the apartment?"

"Yeah, bro, how _did_ you get permission to search the apartment?" Joe echoed his father, thoroughly enjoying Frank's predicament.

"We didn't exactly get permission," Frank answered, ignoring Joe.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Fenton asked gazing steadily at Frank.

"I doubt it. We sort of broke in," Frank said wincing, as he waited for the explosion he knew would follow.

"You _sort of_ broke in?!" Fenton said, shocked.

"Is that like being sort of pregnant?" Joe asked with a straight face.

"You're not helping, Joe!" Frank yelled in exasperation.

"You broke in?" Fenton said again. "Didn't it occur to you that anything you found would be inadmissible in court?"

"I know that, Dad," Frank replied, rolling his eyes. "We weren't planning to take anything we found."

"Then what _exactly_ were you planning to do?" he asked, now curious.

"Yeah, what _exactly_…" Joe began before being cut off by Frank.

"Enough, Joe!" Frank exclaimed in frustration. "I get that you are enjoying this, ok?"

"Immensely," Joe said, sitting back with a smile on his face.

"Frank," Fenton said shaking his head. "What were you thinking?"

"Dad, just let me explain. I really did have a plan you know. After all, I'm not _Joe_." Frank wrinkled his nose at his brother who just smirked.

Joe leaned closer to his father. "Don't worry, Dad," he said in mock seriousness. "He had a plan."

"JOE!!" Frank yelled.

Fenton sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "All right, Frank. Let's hear your plan."

"Okay, I figured we could break in and search the apartment for anything that might help Joe. I didn't expect to find evidence lying around, but I hoped we would find something that would lead us to the evidence that we need. If we did find something, we were going to leave it there and tell you about it. If you thought it was important enough, then I thought you could call in some favors and get a search warrant so we could get it legally."

Fenton knew Frank was trying everything possible to help his brother, but he was still slightly taken aback at Frank's explanation. He was used to hearing this kind of story from Joe, but he was used to Frank doing everything by the book.

Fenton shook his head, chuckling. "So, did you find anything?" he finally asked.

"Nothing concrete," Frank said vaguely, knowing he did have a lead, but couldn't tell Joe he had gotten that lead at the state penitentiary. "I think we need to track down Taylor's mother. She probably knows him better than anyone and would know where he might keep papers and things that were extremely important to him."

"I think you're on the right track," Fenton nodded. "But no one seems to know where she is. She doesn't even know her son is dead yet."

"I know, but I got a lead on the last few places she lived," he said, hoping Joe wouldn't ask for details. "Phil is going to help me try and find out where she's living now."

"Just make sure anything you find will stand up in court," Fenton reminded his son.

"I will, Dad," Frank said, firmly.

"Ok. Andrew came up with…" Fenton barely got started, before being interrupted by Joe.

"Wait a minute. I have a question for Frank," Joe said, seriously.

Frank held his breath, hoping Joe wouldn't ask where he got the leads on Chris Taylor's mother. Both he and Fenton turned to Joe, who was looking at his older brother seriously.

"Exactly how long did it take you to pick the lock?" Joe deadpanned.

Frank slumped back in the chair. "I know you were switched at birth with my real brother. I just know it," Frank muttered as Fenton laughed out loud.

Fenton knew Frank didn't care one bit that Joe was having a good laugh at his expense. It had been much too long since any of them had seen Joe laughing. Fenton waited as long as he could before steering the discussion to Joe's defense. He knew Joe's lighthearted mood would vanish instantly and that's exactly what happened.

"Andrew came up with a few different strategies to use."

"None of which includes temporary insanity I hope," Frank said pointedly, gazing at his brother.

"No, that's not being considered now," Fenton replied, then looked at Joe. "Is it?"

"Not right now," Joe said. "Vanessa really hated the idea even if it would keep me out of prison."

"Good for her! I'm glad somebody was able to talk some sense into you," Frank exclaimed. He was still a little unnerved that Joe had even considered such a thing.

"Vanessa also inadvertently came up with a key point Andrew can use," Fenton continued.

"Really?" Frank was surprised. He knew Vanessa still had a lot of her own issues to deal with and didn't think she'd be able to focus on the details of Joe's defense, other than offering unconditional love and support.

"She made the point that Joe had the opportunity to kill the man responsible for Iola's death. Instead of trying to kill him, Joe tried to save his life." Fenton watched for Frank's reaction as he continued. "She asked why he would kill someone over a rape when he didn't kill someone to avenge a murder. It doesn't make any sense."

Frank digested that information, then cringed.

"Go ahead, say it," Fenton smiled. "Andrew and I did."

"Why didn't I think of that," Frank said, sheepishly.

"I'm just glad Vanessa did. That will have to bring up a reasonable doubt in the minds of at least some of the jurors."

"Yeah, but we need all of them to have a reasonable doubt," Joe finally spoke up, fear and uncertainty clouding his face once again.

"We'll get them all, Joe. One way or another," Frank tried to reassure him.

"He's right," Fenton concurred, searching for anything to keep Joe's spirits up. "You'll get a few jurors with that strategy; a few more with a different strategy; a few more with another. Eventually they'll all believe you are innocent. Or at least have enough doubt to vote not guilty."

Joe sat back, running a hand through his hair. He looked at his father, doubt clearly evident in his eyes. "What if we run out of strategies before we run out of jurors?"

Joe knew his constant negative attitude had to be getting to his father and brother but he couldn't help it. They wouldn't be the ones going to prison if there was even one juror who believed he murdered Chris Taylor. "All it takes is for one person not to believe me. Just one."

"That's why I'm going to find the evidence that _proves_ you're innocent," Frank spoke up. "Then they'll have to believe it. All of them."

"But what if you can't -" Joe began, but stopped when Frank held up his hand.

"I will find it, Joe." Frank said fiercely. He knew he was taking a chance guaranteeing he would find the evidence. But seeing the skepticism in Joe's eyes he felt he had no choice. "Have I ever let you down before?"

"No," Joe admitted.

"And I won't let you down now," Frank said confidently. "Just have a little faith in me, okay?"

Joe smiled sadly. "I have more faith in you than I do in the jury."

"And that's all you need," Frank declared.

Fenton watched his sons with pride, thankful they were so close. His gut reaction to Frank's proclamation was pessimistic. They needed to keep Joe's hopes up, but he also wanted Joe to be prepared should the unthinkable occur and he was found guilty. However, Frank's entire demeanor changed his mind. Frank wasn't just attempting to get Joe thinking positively. Frank firmly believed he would find enough evidence to prove Joe was innocent. He had no intention of failing.

Somewhere deep in his soul, Fenton Hardy knew there was a first time for everything. Someday, without meaning to or wanting to, Frank would be forced to break a promise to his brother. Someday circumstances beyond his control would result in Frank's being unable to keep his word; eventually it would happen – he would let Joe down. Tonight, however, Fenton chose to have faith in his oldest son. He chose to believe that first disappointment was still very far in the future.

oooOOOooo

After bidding their parents goodnight, Frank and Joe walked out to their cars, staying a few steps behind Callie and Vanessa. As they approached Joe's car, he stopped, putting a hand on Frank's arm to hold him back.

"What is it?" Frank asked, slightly concerned.

Joe was thankful for the darkness so Frank couldn't see the emotions he knew were clearly visible on his face.

"I just wanted to say…thanks," Joe said, quietly. "I know breaking and entering isn't your favorite thing to do." Joe knew that, in fact, Frank hated it.

"I'm going to find whatever we need to prove you're innocent," Frank said with conviction. "And I'm certainly not going to let some trivial little detail, like lack of a search warrant, stop me."

"Thanks, bro" Joe smiled. "Just don't get arrested, okay? Both of us being on trial would really put a damper on Dad's reputation," he joked.

"Don't worry, I have everything under control," Frank replied, throwing an arm around Joe's shoulders.

"I know you do," Joe said. "I have faith, remember?"

Frank heard the smile in Joe's voice.

They continued walking to their cars, unaware of their father, watching them from the office window, very proud of the men they had become.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I know it's so much easier to read and just move on to the next story so taking the time to leave a comment is so very much appreciated! THANK YOU! Welcome back, Lina! That Sam and Dean comparison – thank you! MissMe113, loved your Hallmark comment! :p

**Innocent**

**Chapter 16**

As the days went by Joe spent most of his time meeting with his father and Andrew Worth. Andrew felt that in spite of the large number of witnesses testifying against Joe, they had a good chance of getting the jury to find a reasonable doubt. He also thought that since no one, including the District Attorney prosecuting the case, really wanted to see Joe convicted this could work in his favor too

Frank and Phil were working feverishly trying to track down Angela Taylor. The fact that she had such a common name and had moved so many times was making their task difficult, but Frank was determined to find her. Being unable to work with Frank as he tried to find Mrs. Taylor was proving to be one of the hardest things for Joe to deal with. In his head, Joe knew he should be grateful that Frank had someone to help him with this frustrating task, but in his heart he found himself resentful and almost jealous, feeling as if he had been replaced as Frank's partner. Joe continually reminded himself he really _couldn't_ work on the investigation even if he wanted to. He had agreed not to leave Bayport as a condition of his bail and he needed to concentrate on his upcoming trial.

Joe knew his mixed emotions had a lot to do with the fact that following up on leads necessitated Frank being out of town a good deal of the time. Angela Taylor had left Bayport when her first husband, Josh Tilghman, had been arrested and apparently tried to get as far away from the bad memories as possible. But the bottom line for Joe was that he simply missed having Frank around to talk to. They spoke on the phone several times a day when Frank was out of town, but for Joe it just wasn't the same as having his brother right there. No one understood him like Frank did, and Joe felt lost without him.

As Joe sat in the conference room gazing out the window waiting for Andrew to finish a phone call, he hoped Frank would be home that evening as expected. While his friends and family did their best to keep his hopes up he often felt they were just telling him what he wanted to hear. Somehow when Frank told him the same things, he found it much easier to believe his future would not include a prison sentence.

As Andrew entered the conference room, Joe tried to push the loneliness he felt to the back of his mind.

"Well, they've finally given us a trial date," Andrew said, sitting down across the table from Joe and his father. "A week from today."

Joe's heart skipped a beat. He had been asking Andrew when the trial would start, as he simply wanted to get it over with. But now that he had an actual date, it became much more real to him as did the fear of a prison sentence.

"That soon?" Fenton asked. He had been hoping to put it off as long as possible. As long as there was no set date, he knew Joe would be at home and reasonably free to come and go as he pleased. Once the trial started, he was sure it would progress quickly and although Andrew was somewhat confident he could plant a reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors, Fenton was trying to be realistic about the whole situation. Depending on the make up of the jury, they could very easily be swept up in the overabundance of the prosecution's law enforcement witnesses and find Joe guilty. Fenton had hoped Frank would have more time to locate Angela Taylor.

"Their case is pretty straightforward; they don't need much time to prepare, so the sooner the better as far as they're concerned. Everything was right there the night of the shooting – evidence, witnesses. I tried to get a later date but Judge O'Donnell didn't exactly see things our way. He didn't think Frank's 'feeling' that Taylor left behind some kind of record of what he did was enough to justify holding up the trial. Sorry."

"Thanks for trying, Andrew."

"We'll still have a little bit of time on our side once the trial starts. Dennis is planning on calling everyone who was there that night as a witness and that will take time. He plans to call Frank as his very last witness so he'll be free to keep searching for evidence up until that day."

Joe felt a sudden wave of sadness wash over him at Andrew's words. It was quickly followed by panic. If Frank were out looking for evidence, he wouldn't be able to attend the trial each day. It wasn't until that moment that Joe realized just how much he had been counting on his brother to be there each day to give him the emotional support he needed to get through this. Frank could read Joe like a book and knew with just one look when Joe was close to falling apart. He hoped he could keep his composure each day without his brother there to help him.

'_What if I can't? What if I can't hold it together? Who's going to pick up the pieces if Frank isn't there?'_ The negative thoughts began swirling through Joe's mind and he wished desperately Frank were there with him right now. He heard his name being called and snapped out of his dark daydreams.

"Joe?"

"What? I'm sorry. I was just thinking about Frank."

Fenton exchanged a look with Andrew, who got the message immediately. Fenton wanted to talk to Joe alone.

"I've got a few things to follow up on," Andrew said, standing up. "Give me about twenty minutes or so. Then we'll start going through the prosecution's witnesses one by one."

Fenton smiled gratefully at his friend. As he heard the door shut with a soft click, he turned his attention to Joe, whose anxiety seemed to be increasing by the second.

Even though Joe was going to be surrounded by his family and friends every single day during the trial, Fenton knew it wouldn't matter. As far as Joe was concerned, if Frank wasn't there with him, he'd be alone. Frank had always been able to give Joe a sense of security no one else could. It didn't matter how many other people were there for him each day, no one could replace his brother.

"Frank will be able to attend the trial at least some of the time, Joe. And we've still got a week. He may find Angela Taylor and the evidence he's looking for before the trial even starts."

Joe looked at his father with sadness. "Thanks, Dad. But we know that's a million to one shot." He swallowed hard, determined to keep his composure. "I know you'll be there for me. And Mom. Vanessa, Callie…everyone. Please don't think I don't appreciate that, or that I don't need you but…I've only got one big brother, you know? He's always been the only one who could keep the monsters away."

Fenton squeezed Joe's shoulder. "I have to tell you something that I've never told anyone else. In fact I had a hard time admitting it to myself. It's only been in the last few years that I did."

Joe looked at his father puzzled.

"I've always been just a little bit jealous of you," Fenton smiled at him. "Believe me, I love your Aunt Gertrude, and she always looked out for me when we were growing up but…I always wanted an older brother."

Joe was stunned. He had never heard his father say anything like this before. He was sure if Fenton had ever mentioned it to Frank, he would have told Joe immediately.

"Don't look so shocked," Fenton chuckled. "You'd be amazed at the amount of people who, over the years, have told me they wished they had a brother like Frank. Or if they did have a brother, they would give anything to have the kind of relationship the two of you share. It is special, Joe. It's very special.

"We're all going to be there for you, every day. Me, your mother, Vanessa, Callie, all your friends... But none of us has any delusions that it will make up for the fact that Frank won't always be able to be there."

Joe leaned on the table, resting his head in his hands. "I don't know how I can do this without him," he said quietly. "He knows me like nobody else does. It always seems easier to keep it together when I know he's right there beside me if I fall apart. But he won't be there this time." Joe put his head down on the table. "God, I miss him, Dad."

"He will be there, Joe. Even if he's not physically with you, you will be the only thing on his mind. The two of you have a very special bond; this is the time to use it."

Joe looked at his father in despair. "It's not the same thing as him being there."

"No, it's not. But don't tell me you won't feel his presence. How many times over the years has one of you known, instinctively, that the other was hurt or in trouble? Even when you were hundreds of miles apart? That wasn't a fluke, Joe. That was a bond that only the two of you have. And it's strong enough to get you through the days that Frank isn't there. I know it is. And so do you, if you just admit it to yourself."

Joe knew his father was right. That bond was the reason Frank always seemed to show up out of nowhere when Joe needed him most. The anxiety that had been so close to taking over slowly began to dissipate. Joe knew it would be difficult to stay focused and keep his composure without his brother right there next to him. But Joe also knew, that if the time came that he really needed Frank, no matter where he was somehow, Frank would be there.


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. You have no idea how much your comments lift my spirits when I'm having a bad day. THANK YOU!

**Innocent**

**Chapter 17**

_Joe stirred from his fitful sleep. What was it that had awakened him? Opening his eyes, he gasped. Pushing himself up, he quickly scooted back as far as he could on the small, hard cot. His back was now against the wall…and he was trapped._

_His heart began to pound and he could feel the blood racing through his veins. His eyes darted around the small, cramped room, looking for any means of escape but found none. He realized this was what pure terror felt like. He couldn't make out the faces of the men who had somehow made their way into his cell. He couldn't even count how many there were. It didn't matter; he knew there would be more behind them. And still more after that. There were thousands of men serving time at the state penitentiary and many of them were there due to at least one of the Hardys. It didn't matter which Hardy had been responsible for putting them there; they would be more than happy to take out their anger on Joe._

_Unable to see their faces, Joe's eyes were drawn to their hands and the makeshift weapons each of them carried. Razors, knives, screwdrivers, belts, chains, clubs, bats. Joe closed his eyes and gave himself up to the truth he could no longer deny - he was going to die tonight, scared and alone, in this small prison cell. For the first time in his life, his brother was not going to be able to save him. And that would cost him his life._

_"Welcome to The Pen, Hardy," one of the men said menacingly. "Too bad your first night will be your last."_

_Joe opened his eyes and looked up as the group of men advanced on him. If only Frank had found the evidence in time…_

Joe heard a loud ringing sound and sat up looking around frantically, absolutely terrified. He threw up his arms defensively, knowing it wouldn't provide any protection at all against the weapons the other prisoners had.

'_Where are they? Where did they go?' _

Realizing he could no longer see the men who had come to kill him, Joe was consumed by panic, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"NO!" he screamed, whirling to face the first attacker.

"Joe, what's wrong?" Vanessa asked, her face white as a sheet.

Joe was breathing so hard and fast he couldn't speak.

'_Vanessa? It was a dream! It was just a dream!' _

Joe sank to his knees, flooded with relief. He still felt as if he were in that small prison cell, about to die, with no possible chance of escape.

"You better get over here, now!" He heard Vanessa's voice and realized the loud ringing sound must have been the telephone. "Use your own key. Okay, bye," she said, ending the conversation.

Sitting on the floor, Joe turned and leaned back against the couch for support. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to block out the horrifying images. He knew he was in his own apartment, but he somehow felt that if he opened his eyes, he would see the men and the weapons and it would all become real.

"Joe?" he heard Vanessa's soft voice. "Are you okay, Baby?"

Joe didn't dare speak, afraid he would break down completely. Without opening his eyes, he held his arms out towards the sound of Vanessa's voice. Seconds later he felt her arms around him, pulling him close. He laid his head on her shoulder, too afraid to even move.

"It's okay Baby," she said stroking his hair gently. "Frank is on his way. He'll be here any minute."

Whatever Joe had dreamt about this time, as he had napped on the couch, had been worse than anything that had come before. Vanessa knew her soothing words were not going to be enough this time. She wasn't even sure if Frank's presence would be what Joe needed. She could feel him shaking in her arms, barely able to breathe and knew he was scared to death.

Joe held Vanessa tightly, burying his face in her hair. _'She's real. Vanessa is real. It was just a dream. You're still at home. The trial hasn't even started yet.'_

Joe heard the scraping sound of a key being inserted into a lock and flinched involuntarily.

"It's okay. It's okay," Vanessa said, rubbing his back. "It's just Frank. You're at home, Joe. You're safe." Hearing the door open, Vanessa turned and looked just as Frank walked in. She had never seen so many emotions pass over his face so quickly.

Frank shut the door and leaned back against it for a moment. The look of intense worry on Vanessa's face told him things really were as bad as they appeared. She was sitting on the floor holding on to Joe, it appeared, for dear life. Joe was trembling so badly Frank could see him shaking from where he stood half way across the room.

When Frank had called to let Joe know he had arrived home from Atlanta, Vanessa said Joe had just awakened from a nightmare and was upset. Frank told her he would be right over and prepared himself to try and reassure his younger brother; but he was not prepared for this. This was far more than just upset. Frank took a few deep breaths to calm himself and slowly walked towards them.

Kneeling on the floor next to Vanessa, Frank reached out for his brother. His hand barely brushed Joe's shoulder but Joe nearly jumped out of his skin, frantically trying to pull away, yet hold onto Vanessa at the same time.

"It's Frank!" Vanessa cried out. "Look at him, Joe. It's Frank."

Frank recoiled in shock. Joe was afraid of him? What had he dreamt about that frightened him so badly he didn't even trust Frank?

Vanessa shifted position a little and reached up, forcing Joe's head off her shoulder.

"Look, Baby. Look at him," she said soothingly at the same time turning Joe's head towards Frank.

'_Frank? It is Frank!_' Joe thought, letting the relief wash over him. He had been absolutely sure it was one of the prisoners who had somehow made their way into the apartment.

Joe looked his brother directly in the eyes, unblinking, but refused to let go of Vanessa. They were his lifelines right now and he needed them both. Vanessa was his reassurance that right now, in the present, he was still free. As long as he could hold on to her he knew he was safe, at least for the moment. Frank was his reassurance of freedom and with it safety, for the future. Frank promised him, if Joe just had a little faith, Frank would find the evidence.

"Did you find anything?" Joe asked, his voice shaking so badly he almost didn't recognize it.

For a split second, Frank actually considered lying to his brother. Staring into Joe's blue eyes, he saw nothing but abject fear. The last thing Joe needed to hear right now was that Frank had come up empty in Atlanta.

"I'm sorry, bro," Frank said quietly.

Joe squeezed his eyes shut. If Frank had said anything more, Joe didn't hear it. He was back in that prison cell. The men were advancing on him. He could see the weapons they carried vividly. His back was against the wall and one thought ran through his mind over and over again…

'_If only Frank had found the evidence in time…' _

"I'm going to die in prison," he whispered, pulling Vanessa as close as possible. She held him tighter and looked at Frank. She had never seen Joe like this and from the look on his face, neither had Frank.

'_He won't have to worry about prison,_' Frank thought, watching his brother slowly fall apart. _'He'll never make it through the trial!'_

"Joe," Frank said, trying to get his attention. Frank wanted so much to reach out and touch his brother, to comfort him, but based on his reaction just a moment ago, Frank had no idea what Joe would do if he tried. "Joe, listen to me. Please."

Slowly, Joe turned to face his brother, disappointment now mixed with the fear in his eyes.

'_He thinks I let him down,'_ Frank thought, heartbroken, more for Joe than for himself.

"Atlanta was just the first lead. Not the only one. I still have more to follow up on," Frank said encouragingly, not wanting Joe to give up. "I told you I would find the evidence and I will."

"But you won't find it in time," Joe shuddered. The dream was much too real for him to dismiss it so quickly.

Frank and Vanessa exchanged a worried glance. Joe had spoken in a way that sounded like he knew something they didn't.

"Why do you say that?" Vanessa asked.

"That's what happened. In the dream. It was so real. It was too real," Joe replied. The terror he felt knowing he was trapped - about to die - with no chance of escape, came rushing back. "You found the evidence." He now looked at Frank. "But it was too late. They convicted me and I was already in prison. And that first night, they came." Joe's voice caught in his throat. "All of them."

"All of who? Who came?" Frank asked, concerned. It was apparent Joe was terrified of something in this dream. Was he dreaming about prison? About the children he had seen being molested? Were the two now mingling together to drive Joe crazy even while he slept?

"Prisoners. All the men we helped put there. They came to my cell that night. With weapons. All of them had weapons." Joe felt himself starting to shake as the panic took over once again. He was now gripping Vanessa so tightly she almost winced. "There was no where to go. I couldn't escape. I was trapped and I knew you weren't coming for me. You couldn't save me this time." Joe realized he was on the brink of falling apart.

'_No. Don't let them win,'_ Joe told himself. He did not want to break down out of fear caused by a dream when he was still safe in his own home. He blinked a few times, trying to erase the images of the men and the weapons they carried. He concentrated on Vanessa holding him closely. Joe looked at his brother, reaching out for him. Frank grabbed his hand and held it tightly. Slowly, the panic started to dissipate; the dream finally starting to fade.

"You have to find something, Frank," Joe said, his voice filled with desperation. "If I go to prison I'll be trapped there. They'll get to me no matter what… and I don't think they'll let me live through the first night."


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: In the last chapter, Frank had called just to let Joe know he was home from Atlanta. In previous chapters I'd tried to give the impression that Frank kept in constant contact with Joe and called him frequently as he was out of town so much. So no, there was no big revelation about the case with that phone call; just Frank calling to let Joe know he was back in town. Sorry if there was any confusion.

Thank you SO MUCH for the wonderful reviews! You guys are awesome! :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 18**

Joe aimed the remote at the television and turned it off. Leaning back on the couch, he stared at the ceiling. His trial wouldn't start until the day after tomorrow. He had met with his attorney for the final time the previous afternoon. As much as he hated sitting at home doing nothing, he didn't think he could sit through one more meeting. He knew Andrew was just doing his job, making sure Joe was well prepared for the trial. But sitting there day after day, listening to Andrew list all the evidence the prosecution had compiled against him and all the witnesses, most of whom Joe knew and had worked with at one time or another, who were ready to testify against him was more than he could take. Rather than prepare him for the trial, it had served instead to feed his fears.

Fear that Andrew would not be able to convince the jury of his innocence without additional evidence. Fear that Frank would not be able to uncover any evidence. Fear that he would be convicted and sentenced to prison. That one led to his biggest fear of all – the knowledge that if he were convicted and sent to prison he would be trapped. Trapped and waiting to die.

It wasn't even the fact that he knew he would die there, eventually. Even if he never encountered anyone he had helped put there, the name 'Hardy' would be reason enough for any of the inmates to kill him. It was the waiting; the not knowing. When would it happen? Right away? His first night there? Or would they wait awhile; play mind games with him. If that were the case it would lead to one more fear. The fear of what he would be subjected to at the hands of the other inmates while he waited.

'_Why hasn't Frank called?'_ Frank was the only one who could talk him out of these fears; or at least make them a lot less terrifying.

Joe raised his head and stared at the cell phone lying on the coffee table, willing it to ring. Frank had called him from Tucson that morning, telling Joe what he had planned for the day. Joe had no idea why he had been blessed with a brother like Frank, but he was eternally grateful. When he had to be out of town, Frank would call him every day, several times, keeping Joe informed of every single thing he did. He was trying to make Joe feel as if he were part of the investigation, when essentially Joe was the one being investigated. Joe hoped Frank hadn't been able to call because he was so busy gathering evidence he just didn't have time. If that weren't the case, Joe almost hoped Frank would lie to him and say it was. Joe needed something – _anything_ – to calm his fears and give him some kind of hope.

Getting up, Joe wandered aimlessly through the apartment. Vanessa had left earlier to meet with Phil about a job he had in mind for her. He smiled recalling how she had been almost bouncing off the walls before she left. It was the first time she was venturing out alone since the rape. Joe wanted to go with her, but she insisted she had to go alone. This was a job interview, after all, she had told him. Even if Phil were a good friend, it just wouldn't look professional for her fiancée to tag along and hold her hand. Vanessa had assured him she would be fine and somehow he knew she would be. He was amazed at the progress she had made in such a short time. He occasionally worried it was too much too soon and she was heading for a big fall. What if it happened after the trial was over? What if, when it happened, he was in prison? Who would pick up the pieces for her? He shook his head, trying to make that thought disappear from his mind.

Finding himself in the bedroom, he stared at the framed photograph Vanessa kept on the nightstand. It was a photo of Joe and Vanessa from their vacation last year. They had gone to Antigua for a week with Frank and Callie.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked it up and gazed at it, smiling. They looked so happy together. Had that only been a year ago? He lay down on the bed staring at the picture, tracing the outline of Vanessa's face with his finger. God, he loved her so much! He never told her that was the week he realized, with absolute certainty, that she was the one. It was the week he had made the decision to propose to her.

He had seen the envious glances she threw at Callie's engagement ring. He had seen that special spark between Frank and Callie now that they had announced to the world they intended to spend the rest of their lives together. He wanted that same feeling for himself and Vanessa. He had realized ruefully that, as usual, he wanted to be just like his big brother.

It had taken him more than four more months to pick out a ring and work up the nerve to ask Vanessa to marry him. He was sure she would say yes…well, pretty sure. He had also needed to pump his father for information – details about the night his parents had gotten engaged – without letting on why he wanted to know. He wanted to keep his plans secret, on the off chance Vanessa turned him down. He had always remembered Vanessa's reaction when his mother had related the story of that special night. He had decided right then and there if – _when_ – he asked Vanessa to marry him, he wanted to re-create that same scenario just for her.

There were times he still couldn't believe Vanessa had fallen in love with him. Despite his wandering eye, his incurable flirting, his sometimes oversized ego she was head over heels in love and completely devoted to him. A few times recently, he almost wished she had turned him down when he'd asked her to marry him. She would be safe now, and happy, instead of having to figure out how to spend the rest of her life coping with the trauma of rape. She might even be engaged to someone else by now. He could live with that…maybe.

He felt his eyelids growing heavy and desperately tried to stay awake. He dreaded sleep these days. With sleep came the dreams. With the dreams came the children; the abuse; the murderous inmates; the all-consuming terror; and the little boy. The hauntingly familiar little boy…

_Joe sat on the cot, his back pressed to the wall. His gaze swept the tiny, cramped room._

'_Solitary confinement,' he thought bitterly. 'As if that could keep them out.'_

_He tried to stretch out his legs and felt something tug at his left ankle. He reached down to see what it was when his left arm was jerked to a halt. Looking to his left, he gasped. His arm and leg were chained to the wall! He was in solitary confinement, why would he need further restraints? Then he heard it. Very faint at first. Whimpering; crying. He looked up in the direction of the sound, inhaling sharply._

_Children! Why were there children in his prison cell? He looked closer._

'_No!' They were the children from his dreams, huddled on the floor together, crying; terrified._

_He heard a key in the lock and the door swung open. The men came pouring into his cell. Inmates. Guards who were obviously on the take. They turned to the children, grabbing them. The children screamed; crying out in fear and pain._

_Joe tried to close his eyes, to block out the horrible scene taking place before him, but he couldn't. One inmate was standing right next to him. He leaned down close to Joe, whispering in his ear._

_"When we're done with the kids, you'll be next," he smiled evilly. "Hey, you!" he shouted. "Watch what they're doing! You'll be doing the same thing very soon."_

_Joe looked to see who he was yelling at. For the first time, Joe noticed a little boy sitting at the end of the cot. He couldn't be more than five or six years old. His back was to Joe, but somehow the blonde little boy was very familiar to him. The little boy was afraid. Very afraid. Joe could feel it. His little shoulders were hunched over and he was looking at the floor, avoiding the horrors taking place right in front of him._

_Joe saw a quick flash of leather and the little boy screamed in pain! Joe flinched himself. Another flash of leather. Another agonized cry from the little boy. Again Joe could feel it, just as the little boy had. Searing, burning pain across his back. Joe reached out trying to grab the little boy, to pull him away from the whip and the awful beating. He was only a few inches short but it was just enough where he could only sit and watch helplessly as the little boy was whipped repeatedly._

"_No!" Joe cried out, still feeling each strike of the whip himself. "Stop!"_

"NO!! Stop!" Joe screamed in terror. He sat up, looking frantically around the room. He looked to the end of the bed. The little boy was gone!

'_What happened? Where did he go? Where did they all go?'_

His heart was beating wildly, he was hyperventilating and he was scared to death. Slowly, Joe began to recognize his surroundings. He was at home, in his own bedroom.

'_A dream. It was just a dream!' _Joe heard a door open and shut and felt the panic threaten to take him completely.

"Joe?"

'_Vanessa!'_ he exhaled loudly.

"Joe, are you home?" Vanessa called out.

She suddenly appeared in the doorway, smiling. However, after taking one look at Joe, her smile vanished. She rushed to the bed and sat down next to him.

"Honey, what happened? Are you all right?" she asked, extremely concerned. Taking in his appearance, she knew he'd just had another terrifying dream. He had broken out in a cold sweat, he couldn't seem to catch his breath, she could almost hear his heart pounding and his eyes… the fear and terror seemed to get worse with each dream.

Joe reached out and latched on to her as if his life depended on it. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, holding him tightly. Words were no longer a comfort to him when the nightmares came. She had to hold him until he felt safe, until he truly believed the horrible images were only in his dreams. He had stopped telling her the details but she knew the dreams were getting progressively worse. She could easily tell by the intensity of his reaction. Each time it took a little while longer before he could let go, before he felt secure enough to leave her embrace. This time it seemed to take forever. She had no idea how much time had passed before Joe finally loosened his grip on her.

Vanessa looked into his eyes and didn't even bother to ask. There was no way he would talk about this one.

"How was the meeting?" Joe finally spoke. His voice was shaking, indicating the awful nightmare was far from being forgotten.

"Are you sure - " Vanessa began.

"Please, Van," Joe said in a terrified whisper. "Tell me everything. I need something else to focus on."

And so, Vanessa began to tell him about the meeting with Phil. She started out quietly, still concerned about Joe. As she went on though, she became more animated.

Joe watched her intently. He saw her lips moving, her hands waving in the air for emphasis. She smiled frequently; even laughed a few times. Joe didn't hear a word she said. This time the dream had left him gripped by a fear he'd never had before.

'_And I've still got one more day before the trial starts,'_ he thought.

One more day to contemplate his future – or his imminent death. He felt the walls closing in. He saw the little boy. He felt the whip on his back. He tried to focus on Vanessa – and failed.

'_Oh, God. How am I going to survive another twenty-four hours of this?! I'll never make it. Never.'_


	19. Chapter 19

Miss Fenway, MissMe113, pally: Thank you so much for your continued support of this story! I'm so glad you're enjoying it.

Helen: Angst is practically my middle name. LOL! Thank you for commenting and I'm glad you're enjoying it. Now scoot back so you don't fall off the edge of your seat. Wouldn't want you to hit your head, knock yourself out and be unable to read this chapter! :p

Alicia: Are you SURE you're not my long lost twin?? LOL! Your enthusiastic comments remind me so much of the kind I leave and 'crap' is currently my most favorite 'expletive'. Well, yeah I'm trying to stop swearing like a sailor and crap is a lot nicer than what I normally say. **Bows head in shame** ;-) I do apologize for causing your freak out! LOL! And THANK YOU! I love reading your reviews!! :D

TraSan: Thanks for your comments! Yeah, we're getting into the heavy emotional stuff and I'm HOPING to show how being there for Joe is actually helping Vanessa in her recovery.

Phx: Yeah, well you know me! Nothing like a good Joe torture to make me smile! :D LOL at your advice to Frank!! :p

Cheryl: Yeah, another Joe/Vanessa story! How unimaginative is THAT? And really now, how DARE I, huh? I guess this means that anonymousKaren won't read or approve of my story. Oh dear, how will I EVER survive without her stamp of approval?? I just don't know because honestly, don't all fanfic writers live to serve her and cater to her every whim, personal like and dislike? And now you've gone and let the cat out of the bag. Just knowing aK will disapprove of me and my Joe/Vanessa stories is more than I can bear. I have no choice but to end it all. Goodbye, cruel world!! **Runs off to fling self off nearest bridge**

**Innocent**

**Chapter 19**

Vanessa stood looking out onto the balcony, feeling totally useless. Joe was sitting out there in the dark, as he had been for several hours now. It appeared he was doing nothing other than staring at the night sky, but she knew better. In the morning, Joe's trial would begin. Vanessa knew from years of experience that if Joe was sitting in the same spot all this time, not once moving, then inside there were so many emotions fighting for control he probably didn't know which way was up. Having been together for so many years, she knew it was best to leave him alone. Right now there was only one person he needed and it wasn't her.

Sighing, she retreated to the living room and picked up the magazine she had already flipped through three times. She now understood exactly how Joe had felt in the days after she had been raped. He had wanted so badly to help her, to take away her pain, but there was nothing he could do to ease the overwhelming fear and panic that had taken control of her. Somehow he had known what she needed was a little bit of space. He didn't hover, he didn't push her to talk, didn't assume he understood how she felt. He waited until she came to him for support and comfort and then gave it to her in an endless supply. She was prepared to do the same for him when he asked for it, but she knew it still wouldn't be enough.

'_Damn you, Frank!'_ she thought angrily, and immediately felt guilty.

"Sorry," she said out loud, although there was no one in the room but her. She knew if there was any possible way he could have been here, he would. She just wished he hadn't been so adamant he'd be home tonight. He'd gone to Tucson, Arizona two days earlier to speak to old friends and neighbors of Angela Taylor. Up until that point he had been hitting dead ends everywhere. He had finally located some people who had known Angela Taylor when she lived in Tucson. She had moved away a few years earlier but a few of the people had kept in touch with her at least for a while. He had planned all along to come back to Bayport for the first day of Joe's trial even if he hadn't spoken to everyone on his list, saying he could always return to Tucson later in the week.

Frank had promised Joe he would be home by tonight, no matter what. He had given Joe his word that he would be by Joe's side on the opening day of the trial. However, when Frank had arrived at the airport in Tucson early in the day to come home, he found all the flights had been cancelled due to severe weather from a slow moving storm system. The airport had been shut down and wasn't expected to re-open until the morning.

When his father had come by earlier to tell him the news, Joe had been devastated. He had tried his best to hide it but as soon as his father left, Joe retreated outside to the balcony and hadn't moved since.

Cursing Tucson, the weather, the airlines, the airport and even the meteorologist on the local news who had reported the unusual weather in Arizona, Vanessa felt an overwhelming urge to hit something. She smiled inwardly, finally understanding all those times Joe had hit a wall or a door in anger. Recalling how he sometimes felt better afterwards, she was giving serious thought to taking out her frustration on the wall when there was a knock on the door.

Startled, she glanced at Joe on the balcony and briefly considered asking him to answer the door. Anyone coming to visit them should have to announce themselves on the intercom and have Joe or Vanessa buzz them in. It was unusual, though not unheard of, for someone to just suddenly knock on their door.

'_Just go look through the peephole. The deadbolt is locked and Joe is only a few feet away,'_ Vanessa told herself, sternly.

Another knock prompted her to get up and walk to the door. She peered through the peephole and gasped. Not really believing her eyes, she quickly unlocked the door and flung it open, then stood there open-mouthed, shocked into silence.

"Are you going to let me in or do I have to stand out here all night?"

She stepped aside, still too stunned to speak. Finally she managed a few monosyllables. "How…when…"

"Planes, trains and automobiles," Frank grinned.

Finally believing she wasn't hallucinating, Vanessa threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

"Thank God! Oh, Frank, he's a wreck. He really needs you!" The words tumbled out in a rush of relief.

"I know, Van. That's why I'm here." Frank released her and looked around the room. "Where is he?"

"Out there." Vanessa nodded towards the balcony. "He was okay until your Dad came by and told him you were stuck in Tucson. As soon as your Dad left, he went out there and hasn't moved since."

"Have you talked to him at all?" Frank asked, studying his brother's silhouette.

"Uh-uh. There's only one person he wants to talk to right now and it's not me. See if you can get him to come inside. It's cold out there. I've got some things to do on the computer." She turned and headed down the hall.

"So you accepted Phil's job offer?" Frank asked, knowingly.

Vanessa turned and flashed a smile that lit up her whole face. "Are you kidding? That kind of opportunity comes along once in a lifetime – if you're lucky! Of course I accepted. But I did tell him I couldn't officially start until the trial was over and Joe was cleared of all charges," she said confidently.

"Good for you, Van. You'll do a great job."

"See you tomorrow," she said, going into the next room and closing the door behind her.

Standing in his brother's apartment, with Joe right in front of him on the balcony, Frank finally allowed himself to relax. He hadn't been joking when he told Vanessa he had gotten home via planes, trains and automobiles. He had even hitchhiked part of the way. He encountered a few obstacles along the way and at one point really thought he wouldn't make it. But he had given Joe his word that he would be home tonight. He had never broken a promise to Joe before and he wasn't about to start now; not with what was probably the most important promise he had ever made to his brother. Reaching out, he opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony.

…

Joe heard the door open and knew it was Vanessa coming to ask him to come in. It was cold out but Joe didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything at all after his father told him Frank wouldn't be home tonight. He had felt numb for quite a while; and then the pain started. Pain like he had never felt before in his life. Was this what a broken heart felt like? Frank had never broken a promise to him. Ever. He couldn't believe this night was going to be the first time Frank wouldn't be able to keep his word. In his entire life, Joe had never needed his brother more than he did right now.

After his father had left, Joe felt the walls closing in on him. He had come outside to escape that feeling of being… imprisoned. It had worked for a little while. But then he felt the walls again, even out here in the open. The hope he had allowed himself to feel recently, that he might not be going to prison, had vanished hours ago. Frank was the one who had kept that hope alive for him.

When Frank told him he was absolutely certain there was evidence out there somewhere that would clear him, Joe believed it. When Frank told him there was no way he would let Joe set one foot in prison, Joe believed him. When Frank told him he would find the evidence and prove to everyone Joe was innocent, Joe believed him… until tonight.

'_You can't even find a flight home, Frank,'_ Joe thought bitterly. _'How can you find evidence that we don't even know for sure exists?'_

Joe had been absolutely certain Frank would show up tonight, no matter what his father said. Logically, he knew it was impossible with the airport shut down and the weather so bad in Tucson that only emergency vehicles were allowed on the roads. But Frank had promised and Joe wanted desperately to believe him.

'_Maybe if I stay out here just a little longer, he'll come,'_ Joe bargained with himself like he used to do when he was a child.

He just could not bring himself to go back inside. Joe felt that if he went back into the apartment and went to bed, he would be giving up on his brother and he wasn't ready to do that yet.

'_He hasn't given up on me. I'm not going to give up on him.'_

Vanessa hadn't moved since opening the sliding glass door. Joe assumed she was waiting for him to get up and come in, but he couldn't. He had to give Frank a little more time.

"I'm not ready to come in yet. Just give me a few more minutes, okay, Babe?"

"Sure, honey, but I'm going to wait inside. It's cold out here."

Joe jumped up and whirled around, stumbling over the chair he had been sitting in. Standing there looking utterly exhausted but grinning from ear to ear was Frank. Joe felt disbelief, yet at the same time knew he'd been right. He knew if he just waited long enough, Frank would show up.

"You're here," Joe said with a shaky smile.

"I'm here."

"You promised."

"And I'll never break a promise to you."

Joe flung himself at his brother and hugged him tightly. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

"Never," Frank said, hugging Joe just as tightly.

"How did you get home?" Joe asked, still not releasing his brother. He thought he might just be hallucinating, so he kept a tight grip on Frank. He heard Frank laughing softly.

"One of your favorite movies."

Joe smiled and finally released his brother, looking him in the eyes.

"Planes, trains and automobiles," they said in unison.

Joe realized those prison walls that were closing in on him just a short while ago had magically disappeared.


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you so much to Cheryl, Helen, Miss Fenway, pally, Alicia and Polaris for the awesome comments. (And yeah, Polaris, you're right - who needs anonymousKaren when I've got you! :D) That last chapter was one of my favorites to write. I love showcasing the brothers' bond to its fullest.

**Innocent**

**Chapter 20**

Joe Hardy sat across the table from his attorney, Andrew Worth. In a few moments, they would enter the courtroom where Joe's friends and family were already seated for the start of his trial. Knowing his brother was among those in the courtroom had calmed Joe's nerves somewhat, but he was still surprised at how anxious he felt. Andrew was going over some last minute instructions with Joe, trying to make sure he was prepared for what was to come. Nerves, fear of the unknown and lack of sleep were making it difficult for Joe to concentrate.

"I know I've said this before, Joe, but I can't stress it enough. No matter what the prosecution says or implies, no matter what any of the witnesses say, it is imperative that you stay calm at all times. You cannot lose your temper or you will be playing right into their hands," Andrew told him. "The district attorney may be an old friend of your father's but he still has a job to do. He's not going to pull any punches. Just remember that I get to cross-examine every witness he calls. They may say something that upsets you when he is questioning them, but I will get a chance to essentially undermine everything he says or does."

"I understand, Mr. Worth," Joe promised. "I won't lose my temper."

Andrew looked at Joe dubiously. _'He has no idea what he's in for,'_ Andrew thought sadly, and hoped Joe would, indeed, be able to remain in control.

"Good. You're only going to get one chance to make a good first impression with the jury."

Joe nodded his understanding. He suddenly felt very alone and wished he could hold Vanessa one more time before he had to go into the courtroom. He'd been leaning on her more and more for support as the trial drew closer, especially on the days Frank was out of town, and she hadn't let him down. The unbidden thought that they might only have a certain number of days left together pushed it's way into his mind and Joe quickly pushed it back out. He jumped as a knock on the door told him the proceedings were about to begin. Standing, he followed Andrew out the door and into the courtroom.

Joe watched as Judge O'Donnell entered the courtroom and took his seat behind the bench. After everyone in the courtroom took their seats again, the specifics of the case were read. Joe listened as his name, the charges, and the case number were announced and suddenly his trial was officially underway. The reality of it hit him all at once and took his breath away.

Dennis Seevers had already begun his opening statement. Joe tried to focus on every word he was saying but only a few filtered through. And one stayed with him. Rape. How many times would that word be spoken throughout the trial? Hundreds? His eyes started to burn as he realized each time it was spoken, Vanessa would relive that horrible night in some way. Each time it was spoken how many people would turn to look at her? How many times could she hear the word and feel the stares before she couldn't take any more? She had been so strong for him recently; he had almost forgotten she was still in the very early stages of recovery.

"Murder."

The word reached out and grabbed Joe's attention, forcing him back to the present.

"Blind rage. Uncontrolled anger. Revenge."

Joe looked at the jury wondering if they already believed what Dennis was saying.

"Slashed tires. A chance meeting. An offer of help. The beginning of the perfect love story. High school sweethearts."

Dennis was weaving a love story for the jury; Joe and Vanessa's love story. And he was doing it very well.

"Bayport University. Their first apartment together. Central Park at Christmas time. A carriage ride. A marriage proposal. Soul mates planning a life together."

Joe quickly understood what Dennis was trying to do. He wanted the jury to see Joe and Vanessa as the perfect couple, hopelessly in love, utterly devoted to each other, planning a future together.

_'Why wouldn't they? It's true,'_ he thought.

If Dennis could get the jury to believe that, and in fact sympathize with them, it wouldn't be much of a stretch for them to believe Joe would commit murder to avenge such a horrible crime against his fiancée. Glancing at the jury box, he could already see a look of sympathy on a few of the jurors. Would that work for him or against him?

Joe suddenly felt trapped and overwhelmed. _'How did this happen? How did I end up here? How am I going to survive this trial with my sanity in tact?'_

oooOOOooo

Sitting in the first row of seats directly behind Joe, Vanessa found herself wondering the same thing. She had watched Joe grow more anxious each day as the trial approached. She heard him wake up in the night screaming after dreaming about prison, or abused children, or some bizarre combination of both. Her gentle words and comforting embrace were no longer enough to help him past the nightmares.

As each day passed without any new evidence being found, Joe lost a little more hope. Joe trusted his brother more than the criminal justice system, but it was getting harder and harder for him to believe Frank would find anything in time to help him. In the past two days, Joe had made some vague remarks about having a limited amount of time left. Vanessa had assumed he meant a limited amount of time until the trial started. Now remembering Joe's reaction to the frighteningly real dream he had about being killed in prison, she realized he meant a limited amount of time before that dream became a reality.

"Van, are you all right?" a voice whispered in her ear. She jumped in surprise, and then turned to look at Frank, who was seated next to her.

"I'm fine," she replied, quietly.

"Are you sure?" he asked, dubiously. "Because my fingers are turning blue." He smiled and held up his hand, which she was clutching tightly.

"Sorry," she smiled, weakly. "Just nervous." She loosened her grip, but did not let go.

"As long as that's all it is."

Vanessa nodded and returned her attention to the front of the courtroom, where Andrew was now speaking. She'd been so worried about Joe she had missed the beginning of Andrew's opening statement. Vanessa saw Joe turn and smile at her as Andrew's words registered. He was talking about the day Joe had tried to save Iola Morton's killer instead of murdering him, even though he had the perfect opportunity to do so. She returned Joe's smile, happy that she had been able to help in his defense in some small way.

As Andrew's opening statement drew to a close, Vanessa grew anxious. The list of witnesses the prosecution planned to call that day consisted almost entirely of Joe and Vanessa's close friends. While Andrew couldn't be absolutely sure what Dennis had in mind, he had a pretty good idea. He was fairly certain Joe's friends would be called to the stand, one by one, and asked the same question - in the days following the rape, had they heard Joe say explicitly, or in any way make reference to wanting to kill Chris Taylor. Unfortunately, in those emotional days immediately after Vanessa had been raped, Joe had lost his temper quite easily and as a result lost count of the number of times he had threatened to kill Taylor. With Joe's close friends forced to confirm those threats, the jury would have a hard time believing he never intended to follow through on them.

As Joe's friends were called to the witness stand, he ironically found himself wishing he didn't make friends quite so easily. As the day progressed Tony, Phil, Chet, Biff, Liz and others were questioned about their conversations with Joe and forced to recount any threats he had made against Chris Taylor.

Andrew then cross-examined each one and, as Dennis had done, asked them each one simple question. Had they ever been so angry with someone, or lost their temper to such a degree, that they uttered the words virtually everyone has at one point in their lives - "I'll kill him." They all answered with an emphatic "Yes!" which Andrew hoped would prompt at least some of the jurors to recall a time when they too had uttered those very same words in the heat of anger. Although Joe took some comfort in that, and the fact that each of his friends was labeled a 'hostile' witness, by day's end he felt somehow betrayed and alone.

As Dennis called his last witness of the day, Joe was more depressed than he could ever remember being. Lost in self-pity, Joe was shocked back to reality when he heard the name of the last witness - Callie Hardy! There were murmurs throughout the courtroom as Joe frantically tried to remember the conversations he and Callie had in the last few weeks. Prior to he and Frank talking things out, Joe had turned to Callie frequently and confided in her more than he ever had before. As she walked past the defense table, Callie smiled at Joe and winked, giving him the impression things were about to take a turn in his favor.

After Callie had been sworn in and the preliminary questions about her name and relationship to Joe had been asked, Dennis got straight to the point as he had with everyone before her.

"Mrs. Hardy, in conversations with your brother-in-law over the last five weeks, did you at any time, hear him threaten to kill Chris Taylor?"

Leaning forward towards the microphone, Callie looked Joe directly in the eyes and replied, "No."

Dennis Seevers turned to Callie, surprise written all over his face.

"Excuse me?" he said in amazement. This was obviously not the answer he had expected to hear.

"No," Callie repeated. "I never heard Joe threaten Chris Taylor in any way. I never even heard him mention Taylor's name."

"Mrs. Hardy, you are under oath and sworn to tell the truth. Perjury is a crime and one that is taken very seriously. Are you sure you never heard Joe Hardy make any kind of threat against Chris Taylor?" Dennis repeated, slightly unnerved.

"Yes, I am sure and I do not like what you are implying," Callie said defiantly, her eyes blazing with anger.

Joe turned slightly and glanced over his shoulder at Frank, who was trying hard to stifle a laugh. Frank shrugged his shoulders, indicating to Joe he had no idea that was going to happen.

"My apologies," Dennis said quickly. "No further questions." He returned to the prosecution table, and began an angrily whispered conversation with his assistant.

As Joe turned back to the front, he noticed Andrew exchanging a glance with Callie and not quite holding back a Cheshire cat grin. Even if no one else had expected this turn of events, Andrew did.

After Andrew declined to question Callie and she returned to her seat, Judge O'Donnell declared the proceedings finished for the day and left the courtroom.

"Can I go see Vanessa?" Joe asked Andrew anxiously.

"Sure, go ahead. I just need to speak with you for a few minutes before you leave," Andrew smiled.

Joe raced towards the gate separating the front of the courtroom from the seating area, but Vanessa had beat him to it and jumped into his arms. Joe held her tightly, grateful the day was finally over.

Frank watched Joe and Vanessa for a moment before turning to Callie.

"Well, that was quite a surprise," Frank smiled at her. "How come I didn't know about it?"

"I asked her not to say anything to anyone," Andrew jumped in. "As soon as I got the witness list for today, I called everyone on it. I realized the one thing they all had in common was they had heard Joe threaten Taylor. Everyone except Callie, that is. Eventually I realized she had just gotten onto the list by mistake. One of the ADA's put the witness list together and apparently just got careless and put her name on the wrong day. Or just assumed she had heard Joe's threats at some point. We were fortunate Dennis never found out about it. And it was pure luck that she was scheduled as the last witness to be called. Her emphatic no and indignation at Dennis' implication that she might be lying will linger a long time in the minds of the jurors."

"See, I can keep a secret, too," she smiled slyly at Frank.

Frank was just about to lean down and kiss her when she was grabbed and pulled into an enthusiastic hug by Joe. Callie returned the hug, but began struggling to escape after a few seconds.

"Easy, Joe," she gasped. "I can't breathe!"

"Sorry," Joe said, releasing her, then kissed her impulsively. "Thanks, Cal."

"That goes double for me," Vanessa added, also hugging her friend.

Thinking back on all the conversations he and Callie had recently, Joe looked at her questioningly.

"I really never said anything about…" Joe began.

"No, you never did," Callie replied. "So don't start now," she joked, wagging a finger at him.

"Joe," Andrew interrupted the impromptu celebration. "I just need a minute or two, then you can go home."

Hugging Vanessa tightly once more, Joe released her and joined Andrew for a quick rundown on what to expect the next day. As Joe rejoined his family, Laura announced dinner was already being prepared and she expected her family to be together that evening. Turning, to lead the group out of the courtroom, Joe saw Tony, Phil, Chet and Biff standing off to the side, looking very uncomfortable. His arm wrapped securely around Vanessa, Joe approached his friends.

Biff opened his mouth to speak but Joe stopped him before he could get a word out.

"All you guys did was tell the truth. If I hadn't gotten angry and shot off my mouth, there wouldn't have been anything to tell. If anyone should feel bad it's me for putting my friends in that position to begin with. I'm really sorry, guys," Joe said sincerely.

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before Chet finally spoke up. "If you didn't get angry and shoot your mouth off, we wouldn't recognize you."

Joe groaned and rolled his eyes. Keeping Vanessa close to him, Joe followed his family and friends out of the courtroom and down the hall. Vanessa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, grateful he seemed to be in better spirits for the moment as she knew it was just temporary. Once they got home and went to sleep, she knew it wouldn't be long before Joe awoke screaming in terror at the nightmares that now arrived every night, without fail. She was afraid that with the amount of stress Joe had endured today, the images that would invade his dreams tonight would be worse than anything he had experienced before and prayed she would be able to find the words to calm his fears – and her own.


	21. Chapter 21

My thanks to Cheryl, Phx, Phx ('cause you commented at the same time I was uploading the last chapter so you got missed! So now you get TWO thank you's! :D), Alicia, MissMe113, Miss Fenway, TraSan, Polaris 05, pally and Helen! You guys are great! Thank you for making me smile! :D See? That's me smiling… ;-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 21**

Joe stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were bloodshot; the normal brilliant blue color seemed dull and lifeless. The dark circles under his eyes, combined with his pale skin, made him feel as if he were looking at a stranger.

He reached up to straighten his tie and saw Vanessa's reflection as she came to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Hi, handsome," she said, smiling as their eyes locked in the mirror.

Joe knew they were a striking couple. People often gave them a second and third look when they were out in public together, sometimes blatantly staring at them. He wondered what people thought now, when they saw the matching haunted looks in their eyes and felt the undercurrent of fear when strangers got too close.

Vanessa hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Are you about ready?"

"Mm-hmm," he nodded. Turning around in her arms, he kissed her. "I love you, Van," he whispered, holding her tightly.

The night before, when she lay sleeping in his arms, he wondered how many more nights he would get to hold her as she drifted off to sleep. He wondered if he would spend the next sixty years watching her fall asleep every night or if there were only a limited amount left. Maybe it was only because Andrew hadn't started presenting his defense yet, but he was quickly losing hope. Each day he sat and listened to the prosecution call witness after witness to the stand. That testimony along with the evidence they had compiled against him made Joe feel as if he were being crushed.

Today he would listen while Con Riley, Ezra Collig and a few other high-ranking officers testified against him. And tomorrow…tomorrow was a day he was eagerly looking forward to and dreading at the same time. He was looking forward to it because Frank would be home from Phoenix. He was dreading it because Frank was coming home to testify… against him.

Joe knew he wouldn't have much time with his brother. As soon as Frank finished testifying, he would have to catch a plane to Los Angeles. Frank hated flying in and out so quickly without getting a chance to really sit down and talk to Joe; make sure he was holding up all right. But Frank was the final witness Dennis Seevers planned to call. Once Frank had been questioned and cross-examined the prosecution would rest their case. The very next day, Andrew would begin presenting Joe's defense; and it wasn't going to take more than a few days.

Joe was well aware that Frank was feeling a huge amount of pressure. Up to this point, he had found nothing but dead ends. However, between Frank's relentless determination to follow up on all those dead ends no matter where they led him, and Phil's computer wizardry, they were finally able to track down Angela Taylor who was now living in Los Angeles. The police had informed her of her son's death and the circumstances surrounding it. Surprisingly, she still agreed to meet with Frank and speak to him about her son. Still, that didn't guarantee Frank would come home from L.A. with any evidence to prove Joe was innocent.

At this moment, Joe didn't even care about that. More than anything he needed to see his brother, spend time with him, just _be_ with him. Somehow, when he could look Frank in the eye as Frank told him the evidence was out there and he would find it, all of Joe's fears could be kept at bay a little longer.

Returning his attention to the present, Joe finally released Vanessa. He stared at her, running his fingers through her hair. No longer quite so sure they could plan a future together, Joe felt like he wanted to memorize everything about her.

Reaching out, Vanessa touched his cheek. "Ready? If we don't leave now, we'll be late."

"Let's go then."

oooOOOooo

Joe looked at the clock on the wall of the courtroom. Thank God this day was almost over. Ezra Collig was now on the witness stand, and had just finished recounting the events of the shooting. Andrew was in the process of his cross-examination and Joe was just about ready to jump out of his seat and run. He was nervous and anxious and had suddenly had a feeling he needed to get out of the courtroom now. Out of nowhere he could hear his Aunt Gertrude's voice in his head. She had a favorite saying she saved for whenever Joe was fidgeting at the dinner table.

"_Your skin is too tight,"_ she would announce whenever Joe just couldn't sit still for one more second. He smiled thinking of her, for that was exactly how he felt right now. She had desperately wanted to be here for the trial but had broken her hip while visiting a friend in Florida for the winter. Her doctor said she would not be able to travel for at least another month.

Joe tried to re-focus on what Andrew was saying. Chief Collig could have a very intimidating presence and Joe was sure the jury was hanging on his every word. Joe knew the Chief was fond of him, but Collig also thought Joe could be a 'loose cannon' at times and he probably believed Joe really did murder Chris Taylor.

"So you heard the gunshot, correct?" Andrew asked.

"Yes," Collig answered.

"And did you see who pulled the trigger?"

"No. Not clearly."

"Not clearly? Either you did or you didn't."

"Joe had the gun in his hands. Taylor was raising his hands as Joe had ordered him to do when it went off."

"But did you clearly see Chris Taylor's hands - either in the air or on top of his head - at the exact moment the gun was fired?"

Collig sat and thought carefully before answering. "No."

"Did you see Joe Hardy's hands clearly when the gun was fired?"

"No."

"Did you see the gun itself at the moment it was fired?"

"No."

"So you really have no idea who fired the gun, do you?"

Once again, Collig thought carefully before answering. "No."

"It could just as easily have happened exactly the way my client has stated. True?"

"Yes. It could have."

"No further questions, Your Honor," Andrew said as he walked back and took a seat next to Joe.

Joe looked at him in awe. "I've never seen anybody get Chief Collig to admit he might be wrong about something!" Joe said with admiration. "He's gonna be pissed!"

Andrew smiled at him. "He can be as pissed as he wants as long as the jury believes there is a possibility that everything happened the way you said it did. If the chief of police admits it's possible, they have no choice but to have a reasonable doubt."

Joe and Andrew stood, as did everyone else in the courtroom, while Judge O'Donnell declared the proceedings finished for the day and returned to his chambers.

"Can I go now?" Joe asked impatiently. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be outside this room.

"Sure. I'll see you tomorrow," Andrew replied. "Just make sure you get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is going to be the worst day yet," he reminded Joe.

Joe nodded as he made his way towards the back of the room. Vanessa greeted him with hug, a kiss and a concerned look.

"Are you all right? I thought you were going to jump out of your skin those last few minutes."

"Me too," Callie agreed.

"So did I," his father chimed in. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. Nerves I guess. I just feel like I need to get out of here," Joe replied to the anxious looks he was getting from his family.

"Well, there's nothing keeping us here," Laura said. "Let's go."

The five of them made their way out of the courtroom and, as had become habit to avoid the media, turned and headed for the back entrance.

"Aren't you even going to say hi? What a brat."

Joe stopped, frozen in place. At first he was afraid he was now having auditory hallucinations on top of everything else until he heard that familiar chuckle so often used at his expense. Whirling around, he saw Frank standing in the hall, an overnight bag at his feet.

"Frank!" Joe threw himself at his older brother, hugging him fiercely. "When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago."

"I don't believe it," Callie muttered with a smile. She looked at Vanessa knowingly.

"Just about the time Joe started to go ballistic. What a surprise," Vanessa laughed.

"Uh, excuse me," Callie said tapping Joe on the arm. "Can I give my husband a hug? It's been a few days since I've seen him too."

Joe stepped aside giving Callie a playful, dirty look. As Callie and Frank greeted each other, Vanessa pulled Joe aside.

"Why don't you and Frank go out and grab some dinner; spend some time together. I know you haven't seen much of him since the trial started. I think it'll be good for you," she squeezed his hand.

"What about you?" Joe asked, concerned.

"I'll go home with Callie. You can pick me up when you drop Frank off."

"But…"

"No, buts. You need to spend some time with your brother… just being _brothers_."

Joe looked at her, amazed, then leaned in for a kiss. "Thanks, Babe. You're the best."

"I know," she grinned. "But you deserve the best."

As Callie and Frank rejoined the little group, Vanessa related her suggestion, which Callie enthusiastically seconded. As much as she had missed Frank and wanted to be with him, she knew Joe needed him more than she did right now.

After Frank greeted his parents and spent a few minutes catching his father up on what he'd learned in Phoenix, he found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Joe's car.

"Okay, where are we going, little brother?"

Joe turned and looked at Frank as a slow smile spread across his face. Frank saw the look in Joe's eye and knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Mr. Pizza!" they chorused and laughed out loud.


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your wonderful comments. You make me smile – a LOT! This chapter is where things really start to take off. :-)

Psssst… Alicia… 'it' is starting. ;-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 22**

The next morning Frank Hardy stood, waiting just inside the back entrance to the courthouse. He wanted to see Joe, talk to him one more time before the proceedings got underway. They had stayed out until almost one in the morning; probably not a good idea given what the day held in store but it simply couldn't be helped. The two of them were having much too good a time 'just being brothers'. All thoughts of the trial were gone; they had spent hours talking, laughing, joking….

'_Bonding,'_ Frank thought with a smile. He hadn't seen Joe so happy and carefree since the night of the anniversary party Frank's parents had thrown for him and Callie. Frank laughed thinking Joe had been in rare form that night, keeping everyone entertained. The laugh faltered and the smile wavered as he wondered if he'd ever see his brother like that again.

"I'll wait inside." Frank heard a female voice breaking into his thoughts.

Looking up he saw Joe and Vanessa standing in front of him locked in a tight embrace. They seemed to do that a lot these days, he had noticed, almost as if they somehow knew their days together were coming to an end. Without another word, Vanessa turned and walked down the hall, stopping just outside the courtroom.

"Hey, big brother," Joe smiled. Frank noted it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, little brother," Frank smiled in return.

"Thanks for last night by the way."

"Shhh," Frank said glancing around. "People might get the wrong idea!" he grinned.

Joe just laughed and shook his head.

"Listen, Joe. I really need to say this so just let me get it out, okay?"

Joe nodded, obviously unsure of what was coming.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what they're going to make me say today." Frank had promised himself he wasn't going to cry, but the burning sensation in his eyes told him it was a promise he couldn't keep. "Please know I don't believe it. Not anymore. I'll never forgive myself for believing it in the first place." The tears slid from his eyes as it hit him that his testimony today would be the most damaging of all for Joe.

Joe smiled at him sadly. "I really wish you would forgive yourself. I forgave you a long time ago." Joe reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Frank. Really. It won't be that bad. You'll see."

Frank looked at his brother with new admiration. Here Frank was supposed to be the one supporting Joe and it turned out Joe was trying to make him feel better.

'_I guess that's what brothers are for.'_ Frank slung an arm over Joe's shoulders and they walked slowly to the courtroom.

oooOOOooo

'_Calm down,' _Joe told himself. _'You are __not__ losing it.'_

Joe had sat and listened to the testimony of Evan Graham, the young Bayport police officer Joe had been riding with the night Chris Taylor died. It had seemed pretty bad at first but somehow during the cross-examination, Andrew had been able to negate almost all the points Dennis Seevers had made.

Fenton Hardy had taken the stand just after the lunch break and even though his testimony was damaging, Joe felt confident Andrew could work the same magic as he had with Evan Graham. Joe thought he had a pretty good handle on things, until a moment ago when he inexplicably began to feel anxious, almost panic-stricken.

Under cover of the table, Joe was clutching the arms of his chair so tightly he was sure they would break. During his father's testimony, he had been gripped with a terror so complete and overwhelming he was absolutely certain he was on the brink of a mental breakdown. Joe had been listening intently to his father answer the questions posed to him by the district attorney, when he was suddenly hit with images from… he wasn't sure where.

He knew he hadn't left the courtroom yet he was now in the room he had seen in his dreams; but he couldn't be dreaming. He was wide awake, sitting in the courtroom. Still all he could see was the room where the little boy had seen the children being abused and molested.

"And when you arrived on the scene what exactly did you see?"

The room faded out. Joe was back in the courtroom. Dennis Seevers had just asked Fenton what he saw when he arrived at the abandoned warehouse. Joe's eyes darted around the room, trying to determine if anyone had noticed his momentary distraction. Everyone seemed to be transfixed by his father's testimony against him. A little unnerved, Joe drew in a shaky breath to try and calm himself, refocusing on his father's voice.

"Joe and Taylor were against the trunk of a car. They appeared to be struggling for control of a gun," Fenton answered, trying to tell the truth without casting any suspicion on Joe.

"Did you have clear view of this struggle?"

"No. Joe's back was to me so it was difficult to see exactly what was going on."

Without warning, Joe was back in the small bedroom. But the children weren't there. And the people who had abused them were gone too. The room was empty except for a child huddled on the floor in the corner, crying. It looked like a little boy. He had blonde hair, but Joe couldn't see his face.

Joe felt his heart start beating wildly. He knew this little boy from somewhere. The little boy was scared to death. Joe could feel it; and pain. Physical pain. Someone had hurt this little boy badly.

"The gun discharged." Joe heard his father's voice.

_'Oh, my God…what just happened?' _Joe thought_. _

Joe realized he had just missed a huge chunk of his father's testimony. He looked around anxiously. He was still in the courtroom, yet he had just been in that bedroom.

_'It's okay. It's all right. Concentrate on Dad.' _

His father's voice started to fade. Joe was back in the room watching the hauntingly familiar little boy. Suddenly people came running into the room. People in uniforms. The police? A man ran in right behind them. He looked frantic with worry. The little boy looked up, saw the man and ran to him, leaping into his arms. The man swallowed the little boy up in his embrace, tears streaming down his face. He held onto the little boy as if he never wanted to let go.

"And what did he say?" It was Dennis Seevers' voice again. The man and the little boy were gone.

_'What's happening to me?'_ Joe felt the panic start to build quickly. _'Dad. Listen to Dad. Focus.'_

"He said he didn't do it," Fenton replied.

Joe listened to hear what his father would say next but his voice seemed to fade and was gone again…yet he wasn't. Joe was once again watching the man in his dream, holding onto the terrified little boy for dear life. The man looked up. Joe saw his face. And that was the instant Joe was certain he had finally lost his mind. The man was his father and when he was finally able to see the little boys face, he was looking at himself!

"Joe!" He heard his name being called from somewhere far away. "Joe, are you all right?"

Joe turned and looked into the worried face of his lawyer. "What's wrong, Joe? You look like you're ready to pass out."

Joe's eyes darted around the room. It _was_ the courtroom he was in. He became aware of a dull ache in his hands and looked down. His fingers were completely white from gripping the chair so hard, for so long. Drawing in a shaky breath, he looked up at the witness stand and saw his brother sitting there.

'_Frank?! Where did Dad go?' _

His father had been on the witness stand when Joe felt the terror overtake him and saw the little boy from his dreams. The little boy who had turned out to be him. But now Frank was up there.

_'God, what's happening to me?! It was me! That little boy was me! No. It couldn't be. They were just horrible nightmares. It didn't really happen. It wasn't real.''_ Joe was gripped by a panic like nothing he had ever experienced.

"Joe." He heard his name once again and felt a hand gripping his arm tightly. He found he was still staring at Andrew. "I'm stopping these proceedings right now," Andrew said, apparently realizing something was very wrong.

_'Andrew?'_ Joe stared at him, willing himself to stay in the present. "No!" Joe hissed, as Andrew made a move to stand. "I'm…I'm fine."

"You are not fine. What's going on?" Andrew was no longer at all concerned about the trial, but was deeply concerned about Joe. He was pale and obviously terrified of something. It had taken Andrew a good two minutes or so to get Joe to acknowledge him. He had no idea how long Joe had 'spaced out' before he even noticed it.

"Nothing. I'm okay, now," Joe lied. He was far from okay and he knew it. But Frank was the last witness of the day and Joe felt he could hold it together until Frank was dismissed from the witness stand. If he was going to have a nervous breakdown, he was determined it was not going to happen in the middle of a packed courtroom. And having Andrew stop the proceedings would be almost as bad. "I'm fine. I just want this day to be over with."

Not sure he was doing the right thing, Andrew sat back and watched Frank continue his testimony, casting frequent glances at Joe.

Joe concentrated on what his brother was saying. He did _not_ want those images to return. If he listened intently to every word Frank was saying, maybe he could hold them off, at least until he got home.

"So you clearly heard Chris Taylor surrender. Is that correct?" Dennis Seevers asked Frank.

"Yes," Frank replied.

The visions began flashing in front of Joe's eyes. A frantic car ride. A hospital emergency room. His father was there, but much younger. And Joe saw himself again, as a little boy. He was screaming now, clutching his father's coat. Someone was pulling on him, trying to tear him away from his father. His father was reluctantly giving him up, but Joe refused to let go.

"And _after_ you heard him surrender, you heard the shot fired from your brother's gun. Correct?"

Joe was here in the courtroom and yet he wasn't. He could hear himself screaming for his father. Unbearable, heartbreaking wails. And pain. Physical pain as if he had been beaten. But he could still hear Frank's voice.

_'Stay here,'_ Joe commanded himself. _'Stay in the present. Don't go back there.'_ Joe had no idea what was happening to him, but whatever it was he didn't want it to happen here. Seevers had asked Frank something about the gun being fired. He had to be close to the end of his testimony. _'I can do this. I can hold on until he's done.'_

Frank winced at the question. "Yes."

Frank hadn't been able to look Joe in the eye since he took the witness stand. If he had, he would have realized Joe had no idea what he was saying. He would have seen instantly, that Joe was completely unaware of what was taking place around him.

"And what did you do then?"

"I ran to Joe."

_'He ran to me.'_

"Did you say anything to him?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

Frank swallowed hard. "I asked him what he had done."

_'He asked me what I had done.' _Joe found if he concentrated on repeating everything Frank said, he could keep his mind here in the courtroom. Something from his past, something terrifying, was trying to break through to the present. Something to do with the dreams and the children and the abuse.

"And what did he say?"

"He said 'I didn't do it, Frank. I didn't kill him.' "

_'I didn't do it, Frank. I didn't kill him.'_ Joe repeated it to himself. He stared at his brother intently. Frank could keep him here in the present. Frank could save him from whatever it was that wanted to make itself known. Frank always saved him.

"And did you believe him?"

Frank was suddenly aware of how quiet the courtroom had become. Everyone was waiting for his answer.

"Mr. Hardy? Did you believe your brother when he said he didn't kill Chris Taylor?"

"No." Frank saw Joe staring at him and found it took all the self-control he possessed not to break down. Had he just helped get his brother convicted of murder? _'I'm so sorry, little brother.'_

"Mr. Worth, do you want to cross-examine?" Frank heard Judge O'Donnell ask.

_'Finally! The jury can hear_ _the_ _truth_ _instead_ _of_ _just_ _bits_ _and_ _pieces_.' Frank relaxed slightly.

"Not at this time your honor," Andrew replied. He had been watching Joe carefully and realized something was seriously wrong. He had been ready to ask the judge for a recess when Joe seemed to regain some semblance of control. Joe had been listening carefully to Frank's testimony and ironically that seemed to calm him enough to remain focused. Andrew concluded it had to be just the sound of Frank's voice that Joe found comforting, as the testimony itself was probably the most damaging the jury had heard so far.

Frank stared at Andrew and he knew his jaw dropped. _'Why_ _isn't_ _he_ _going_ _to_ _cross_ _examine me? He can't leave the jury believing I thought Joe killed Taylor!' _

As Frank watched Andrew he noticed that the attorney, was casting frequent, worried glances in Joe's direction. Taking a close look at his brother, Frank gasped inwardly.

_'What's wrong with him?!'_

It was clear that Joe just barely had a handle on his emotions. As bad as his testimony had seemed, Frank couldn't help but feel there was something else wrong with his younger brother. To the casual observer, Joe appeared to be just a little flustered, but Frank knew his brother better than anyone. Joe was on the verge of falling apart and it was going to happen very soon.

"Mr. Hardy, you may step down," Judge O'Donnell said.

Frank left the witness stand, looking at Joe as he passed the defense table. Joe seemed to look right through him, as if it took all his concentration simply to stay in control. Frank continued watching his brother and saw that Andrew had to prompt him to stand when the judge was leaving the courtroom. As people began making their way to the doors at the rear of the room, Frank couldn't believe his eyes.

Joe turned and bolted through the gates at the front of the seating area. Without stopping and without a word to anyone he grabbed Vanessa's hand and ran from the courtroom, dragging Vanessa behind him.

Frank watched, momentarily stunned then looked at his parents, Callie and finally Andrew. They all wore matching expressions of shock and confusion. What in the world had just happened?

Frank saw Andrew approach his father, clearly concerned.

"What happened to him?" Fenton asked Andrew. Frank detected a note of panic in his father's voice.

"I don't know, but whatever it was, it's serious. He kept zoning in and out. His body was here but his mind was… I don't know where," Andrew said, worriedly. "I first noticed while you were testifying, Fenton. It took me a good two minutes to get through to him. And I have no idea how long he had been like that before I even realized what was going on. By that time Frank was on the stand. After that it happened several more times, but for shorter periods. I don't even think _he_ knows exactly what happened. Whatever it was, it has him scared to death."

Frank immediately started for the exit, needing to see his brother; to make sure he was all right and help him if he wasn't. He felt someone grab his arm and was jerked to a stop. Whirling around, he was face to face with his father.

"I'll find out what's wrong. You have a plane to catch," Fenton said.

"Dad, I can't leave now!" Frank cried, incredulous.

"You don't have a choice, Frank. The prosecution rested its case today. We are running out of time. No matter what's wrong with Joe right now, this trial _will_ go on. We need that evidence!" Fenton said, forcefully.

Frank was speechless. He knew his father was right, but how could he expect Frank to concentrate - to function - when Joe was so obviously on the verge of collapse.

"Please, Frank. I will take care of Joe," Fenton said, his voice softer. "I know how badly you want to be with him, but you _have_ to find something to clear him. Go to the airport and get on that flight. Call me when you get to L.A. and I'll let you know what's going on."

Frank and Fenton exchanged a long look. Each knew exactly what the other was thinking. Joe was starting to remember. As Frank turned to leave the courtroom he couldn't help but feel that this was the beginning of the end.

oooOOOooo

Joe clutched Vanessa's hand tightly as he weaved his way through the halls of the courthouse. He had to get out of this building. His sanity depended on it. As the crowd of people thinned out Joe realized he was running, dragging Vanessa behind him. He burst through the back doors of the building into the early evening air. He slowed but did not stop. Not until he reached his car.

Joe reached out to unlock the car and the keys fell from his badly shaking hand. He felt his eyes start to burn.

_'I have to get home. I have_ _to_ _get_ _home_.' Joe knew he would feel much safer, and saner, once he was in his own home.

Vanessa stooped down and picked up the keys. Unlocking the door, she nudged Joe into the passenger seat. Quickly running to the other side of the car, she got behind the wheel and headed for home. Every few minutes, she would cast a worried glance at Joe.

When he grabbed her hand and ran from the courtroom Vanessa was sure he was in the beginning stages of a nervous breakdown. She had watched him grow more anxious and fearful as the trial wore on. The stress was getting to him and she had wondered more than once if he would make it through the trial without falling apart. As she looked at him now, he seemed to calm down a little the further they got from the courthouse.

Not a word was spoken during the short drive home. By the time they arrived Vanessa was relieved to see Joe had regained some of his composure. The color had returned to his face and his breathing was closer to normal than it had been earlier when he was almost hyperventilating.

As they got out of the car, Vanessa wrapped an arm around Joe's shoulders and led him up the stairs to their apartment. When they walked through the door, she actually heard Joe breathe a sigh of relief. He turned to her and Vanessa put both arms around him and pulled him close. She could still feel him trembling slightly.

"It's okay, Baby. You're safe now," she said soothingly. "We're home."

Joe held on to her tightly. Concentrating on Vanessa, her arms wrapped securely around him, Joe finally allowed himself to relax just a little. The visions he'd had in the courtroom were now far away although the fear they had ignited was still burning hot inside him. Several minutes passed before Joe felt he could actually let go.

Vanessa touched his cheek, worried about the fear she still saw in his eyes.

"What happened?" she asked softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not exactly sure what happened," Joe replied, his voice shaking slightly. "I started seeing images…visions. Something from my childhood. Flashbacks, maybe? I saw myself. But I was a little boy. And Dad was there, too. I was scared. Terrified. So was Dad. First we were in the room - the bedroom - that I always see in those dreams. It was like he had been looking for me. Then we were at a hospital. Someone was trying to pull me away from him, but I didn't want to let go." Joe felt the terror surging again and he forced it back down.

He looked at Vanessa, haunted by the intensity of his reaction. "I don't remember anything like that happening when I was little. Nothing like that ever happened that I can recall. I mean I had a perfect childhood. Nothing bad ever happened to me."

_'At least nothing that you can remember,'_ Vanessa thought, worried. Joe's reaction was much too intense for all this to be something his imagination had dreamed up.

Joe forced a weak smile to his face. "I feel better now. Here with you." He saw she didn't believe him one bit. "Really," he lied. "I'm okay now."

Vanessa looked at him dubiously. She knew he was lying but she wasn't going to push it. He was much calmer than when they had first run from the courtroom. She would just keep a close eye on him. If he started getting upset again, to a point she couldn't handle, she would call his parents.

"If you say so. But I think you should call your parents and let them know everything is okay. I'm sure they're worried after the way you bolted."

"I will. As soon as get out of this suit." He kissed her and walked down the hall to the bedroom. Slowly following him, she prayed the rest of the evening would be uneventful.

After having Chinese take out delivered, Joe and Vanessa curled up on the couch. Joe had suggested they watch a couple of their favorite videos and turn in early. Joe hated to admit it, but his wildly changing emotions earlier in the evening had left him wiped out. As they headed off to bed, Joe hoped he was so exhausted he might just sleep through the night without being awakened by one of the terrifying nightmares that had haunted his dreams every night.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Thanks so much to all who continue to read and thank you for the kind reviews. :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 23**

"NO!!" Joe screamed. He sat up in bed, breathing hard and fast. "Oh, God…oh, no…it was real," he said, talking out loud, but only to himself.

"Joe, what's wrong?" Vanessa asked.

She turned on the small light on the nightstand, now wide-awake and very concerned. Joe had never reacted to a nightmare like this before and she was terrified.

He closed his eyes as tears slid down his cheeks. "No…" he said again, leaning over and covering his ears with his hands as if to block out a sound only he could hear. "No! Stop!" he yelled, rocking back and forth.

Vanessa put an arm around him, trying to comfort him.

"Joe, please tell me what's wrong," she said, getting more frightened by the minute.

"Don't touch me!!" he screamed at her, pulling away.

"I'm sorry." She shrank back from him. _'What's happening to him?!'_ she thought, panic-stricken.

Suddenly he bolted from the bed and ran for the bathroom, slamming the door. Seconds later she could hear him throwing up. Realizing that whatever was happening with Joe was more than she could deal with alone, she grabbed the phone. Pressing the speed dial for his parents, she continued to stare at the bathroom door. Fenton Hardy picked up the phone on the first ring, but Vanessa didn't even give him a chance to speak.

"Something's wrong with Joe!" she cried out, her voice shaking.

"What happened?" Fenton asked, instantly awake.

"I don't know. He woke up screaming; absolutely terrified."

"Did he say anything? Anything at all?" Fenton was already out of bed and getting dressed while cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder.

"He said something like 'it was real' and he kept saying 'no' and 'stop'. When I touched him he almost went crazy," she replied.

"Where is he now?"

"He's in the bathroom…throwing up." She began crying softly. "What's happening to him?"

"We're on our way. We'll be there in five minutes," Fenton replied, pointedly ignoring her question. Knowing Joe's habit of running away whenever things got too overwhelming for him, he added, "Vanessa, no matter what happens, don't let him leave. Do whatever it takes to keep him there."

"Ok. I will," she replied. "Please hurry."

Hanging up the phone she heard the water running in the bathroom and then nothing but Joe crying and talking to himself. Cautiously, she opened the bathroom door and looked into the room, her heart breaking at what she saw.

Huddled on the floor in a corner of the bathroom, Joe was sobbing, crying so hard he could barely catch his breath. Warily, she approached him and kneeled on the floor.

"Joe," she said softly. "Honey, can you tell me what's wrong?"

He didn't respond, but continued crying and mumbling to himself.

Tentatively, she reached for his hand.

"NO!!" he screamed, lashing out at her. "No! Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" Pulling his knees in tighter, he tried to make himself as small as possible. "Please, don't make me do that," he sobbed.

Wide-eyed, Vanessa backed away. His body language set off all kinds of alarms for her. It was exactly what she had done every single time she awoke from a nightmare about the rape.

'_Oh, no. Please, God, no.'_ The thought suddenly struck her with terrifying force_. 'Has he been abused? Or molested?' _Just the thought of it broke her heart.

Heeding Fenton Hardy's words, she sat on the floor just outside the bathroom door, never taking her eyes off Joe. She ached to put her arms around him and comfort him as he had done for her so many times in the past month. Knowing that would only cause him more pain she simply watched as he cried, mumbling and talking to himself. Every once in a while he would look at her with terror in his eyes as if she were the enemy.

"Please don't make me watch!" he pleaded looking at Vanessa. "Make them stop!" he screamed, covering his ears once again. "You're hurting them!"

Vanessa could only watch, helplessly.

"Hang on, Baby," she whispered. "They'll be here any minute."

It seemed like hours, but was less than five minutes when she heard the buzzer announcing the arrival of Joe's parents. Quickly she ran out to the living room and pressed the button allowing them access to the building. She opened the door and waited anxiously in the hallway for them. Before they had even gotten in the door, Vanessa was pulling Fenton towards the bedroom.

"He's in here. I tried to talk to him. I tried to hold him but if I get close to him he goes nuts."

Entering the bedroom, Fenton could hear his son crying.

"In there," Vanessa said quietly, pointing to the bathroom. She and Laura stood and watched as Fenton disappeared into the bathroom. Vanessa turned her attention back to Laura.

"Please, tell me…was he ever…molested?" she asked, afraid of what the answer would be. She couldn't bear to think of someone she loved so deeply having to experience the same terror and agony she had just a few short weeks ago.

Laura shook her head. "No, honey, he wasn't."

Vanessa was relieved, but still confused. If that wasn't it, what could possibly be causing Joe to react like this? She shuddered remembering how Joe had told her he'd started dreaming about children being abused and molested. He told her he honestly thought he was starting to lose his mind. At the time that seemed ridiculous to her, but now it appeared to be the only thing that made any sense.

Another heart breaking cry from Joe caused both women to jump slightly.

"Why don't we go into the living room and I'll explain everything," Laura said glancing at the closed bathroom door.

Vanessa nodded and followed her out of the bedroom.

oooOOOooo

Cautiously, Fenton entered the bathroom closing the door behind him. He kneeled on the floor in front of his son, realizing he was about to relive that day from seventeen years ago. The scene before his eyes was exactly as it was then. Joe sat on the floor, huddled in a corner, crying uncontrollably.

"Joe," he said softly. "It's okay now. Daddy's here."

Joe looked up at his father, seeing him through the eyes of the six-year-old boy who had witnessed the horrors first hand so many years ago. Just as he had done all those years ago, Joe leapt into his father's arms. He was once again that little boy who had been taken from his family and forced to watch abuses no one, child or adult, should ever have to see.

"Daddy! Take me home!" he cried.

"Shh. It's okay, Joe. You are home, son. And I'm right here."

"Please, Daddy, I want to go home!" Joe clutched at his father, refusing to let go.

Fenton realized with alarm, Joe was reliving the moment he had been rescued from Tilghman. As far as Joe was concerned, he really _was_ six years old and wanted nothing more than to be held and protected by his father.

"Don't let them hit me again, Daddy. Don't make me watch anymore," he whispered in sheer terror. "Don't let go, Daddy. Don't let go."

"It's all right, Joe. You're safe now," he said, stroking Joe's hair and patting him soothingly on the back as he had done the day he'd found Joe. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Fenton held his son tightly, unsure of what to do. Not having expected this, he was totally unprepared and felt completely helpless. There was nothing he could do for Joe as every terrifying detail of those three days came flooding back with full force. Feeling utterly useless, Fenton held Joe close to him as Joe sobbed.

Tears slid down his own face as he realized even if Josh Tilghman had lived to be one hundred before he died in prison, it wouldn't even scratch the surface. It would never make up for the fact that Joe and countless others who had been unwilling pawns in Tilghmans' sick, twisted world, would be living in their own kind of prison forever.

Fenton had no idea how long he sat with Joe, trying to comfort him until the heartbreaking wails slowed to a trickle of tears, sniffles and the occasional shudder. Fenton kissed the top of his head and rested his cheek there for a minute. While he knew this was far from over, he felt a mild sense of relief that at least it was now out in the open.

"Joe?" he said softly.

He felt Joe shiver in his arms but he did not speak.

"Joe," he repeated, looking down so he could see his son's face. This time he was the one who shivered.

Over the past weeks, Fenton had played out in his mind, a hundred different scenarios of just how Joe might react to remembering those awful days. In his worst nightmare he never even considered this one.

"No!" Fenton cried out, tears returning to his eyes. "Not this! Please don't let it end like this!"

Joe stared blankly out into space, seeing nothing in the present but everything from the past.

"Joe, talk to me," Fenton begged squeezing his shoulders. "Please, talk to me."

"Joe, _please_!" Fenton shook him roughly. "Say something. Anything!"

"Dead." It was barely a whisper. Fenton was sure he had misunderstood.

"What? What did you say, Joe?"

"Dead," Joe whispered again. "Daddy is dead."

"No, I'm not dead!" Fenton shook Joe again. "I'm right here! Look at me!"

"Mommy is dead," Joe said in the same whisper. "They're never coming back."

"Oh, my God." Fenton closed his eyes, remembering what Joe had told him about the first dream. "Those bastards told you we were dead. They said we were never coming back for you."

"He never came."

"Yes, Joe. I did come. I came for you," Fenton said, hoping Joe would remember the day he was rescued.

"He promised… but he never came."

'_Who promised?'_ Fenton realized Joe was no longer talking about him.

"He never came," Joe repeated. Hugging his knees, Joe slowly rocked back and forth, blue eyes staring vacantly at the wall in front of him.

Fenton Hardy watched and listened. Now trapped in his own world, Joe rocked back and forth repeating the same three words over and over…

"He never came. He never came. He never came."

With a shattered heart and tears flowing freely, Fenton Hardy stood up and pulled out his cell phone. With shaking hands he pressed the numbers 9-1-1.

oooOOOooo

Fenton Hardy watched helplessly as the EMT cautiously approached his son. Joe hadn't moved from the spot where he sat on the bathroom floor since Fenton had called 911. Joe continued staring at the same spot on the wall, the vacant look never leaving his eyes. Rocking back and forth he quietly repeated the same three words over and over again, "He never came."

"What are you doing?" Fenton asked in alarm as the EMT pulled out a syringe and began filling it with a clear liquid.

"Sedative," he said simply.

"Why? Look at him! He doesn't need a sedative."

The sandy haired young man looked at Fenton sympathetically. He hated these calls. There was never anything he could say to calm the families. At least with physical injuries he had a good idea what he was dealing with. He could give the family some idea of how serious things were and offer comfort and support. Injuries to the psyche made that impossible. Sometimes the victims recovered; sometimes they were lost forever.

"It's for protection," he replied to Fenton's query, eyeing Joe's muscular frame. "Ours and his. Sometimes when we start to get them ready for transport, they get violent."

"Joe," Fenton said quietly, looking at his son. "His name is Joe."

"Joe," The EMT repeated. "He's obviously in pretty good shape. If he comes around or gets scared - feels threatened in any way - he could easily do some real damage to us. This way we don't have to worry about anyone getting hurt. Joe or us. It's standard procedure," he tried to reassure the worried father.

"Excuse me," a young woman said as she entered the bathroom, rolling a stretcher in behind her.

As Fenton moved to the doorway, she turned to him. "Someone will need to follow us to the hospital. To complete the admittance forms and answer any questions the staff has. But you won't be able to stay with him, so it's best if only one of you comes. Whoever is legally responsible for making decisions for him."

"Which hospital are you taking him to?" Fenton asked.

"Campbell Psychiatric Center," she replied. She heard Fenton gasp and looked up at him. "You said he had a breakdown brought on when he suddenly remembered some type of trauma that he had been suppressing since childhood, correct?"

Fenton nodded.

"If we take him to Bayport General they'll just transfer him to the Campbell Center," she explained, apparently used to the surprised reaction.

"I understand," Fenton said quietly. Seeing the sedative Joe had been given was starting to take effect, he stepped into the bedroom where he saw Laura and Vanessa holding each other, waiting for some explanation as to what was happening.

Fenton took a deep breath and related what the EMT's had told him.

"I'll go to the hospital and get him admitted," he said.

Looking at Vanessa, his heart went out to her. It was obvious she did not want to be separated from Joe, but Fenton knew there would be nothing she could do at the hospital. They wouldn't let her see him and since they were not yet married she wouldn't be allowed to make any decisions regarding Joe's care. He also knew she would be terrified if left alone in their apartment. Catching Laura's eye, he glanced at Vanessa and then back at his wife. Understanding exactly what her husband meant, Laura turned to Vanessa.

"Why don't you pack a bag and come home with me?" she said gently. "You can stay in Joe's room. I'd really rather not go home alone."

Vanessa smiled at her gratefully, trying to keep her tears at bay. "Thank you," she whispered.

At that moment, the EMT's wheeled the stretcher out, Joe securely strapped in. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

They stopped as Vanessa approached the stretcher. Leaning down, she kissed Joe softly. "I love you, Baby. I'll come see you as soon as they let me." She rested her forehead against his for a moment and then quickly turned away, blinking rapidly, trying to hold back the tears.

"I'll wait for you in the living room," Laura said softly. She turned and followed her husband out of the room, closing the door behind her.

As soon as Vanessa heard the click of the door close, she sank down onto the bed. Picking up Joe's pillow, she clutched it tightly to her chest, buried her face in it and began to sob.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! I have to admit to being a bonehead. The alerts apparently went down right after I posted chapter 22. I rarely actually go to the reviews page to check reviews; I just read them via the PM's. I got two reviews before the alerts went down and then... nothing. Then I posted chapter 23 and got none. So naturally my very first thought was 'Oh, crap… they HATE what I've done with Joe!' I was going to put a bag over my head and crawl under a rock when I thought 'Hey, wait a minute…' and went to the actual reviews page and TA-DA – there they were! LOL! And it only took me like THREE DAYS to figure that out!! :p Again – THANK YOU!! :D

**Innocent**

**Chapter 24**

Fenton Hardy glanced at the clock on his desk. It was exactly three minutes later than the last time he had looked. By the time he had gotten Joe admitted to the Campbell Center and returned home, the sun had started to rise. Although he was exhausted, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. To keep busy, he had retreated to his office and begun listing all the things he would need to do that day.

As long as he kept his mind occupied, he could keep the events of the past few hours at bay. If he allowed his mind to wander, even for a moment he was back in the bathroom with Joe, listening to his heart wrenching cries, seeing him staring blankly out into space, repeating those same three words over and over. When that happened, Fenton thought he could actually feel his heart breaking. And the hardest thing he had to do was still ahead of him.

Frank had called late the night before, as soon as he arrived in Los Angeles, consumed with worry for his younger brother. At that time, Joe had seemed fine. Well, as fine as he could be considering everything that had occurred that day. Fenton had spoken with Joe earlier in the evening and Joe had assured his father he was all right, just a little tired. Joe had told Fenton that he and Vanessa had gotten take out for dinner and were going to watch a movie and turn in early. Even though he knew Joe wasn't being totally honest with him, Fenton had actually gone to bed feeling much better about his youngest son; until he had gotten the frantic call from Vanessa in the middle of the night.

When Frank called the previous evening, Fenton had repeated his conversation with Joe word for word, knowing Frank wouldn't settle for anything less. Although Frank was dubious at Joe's comment that he was "just fine", Frank knew he had no choice but to accept his brother's explanation. Fenton had no idea how he was going to tell Frank that their worst fear had indeed come true. He had no doubt that Frank would want to be on the next flight home. Under any other circumstances, he would want Frank to come home. However, he knew that if - _when_ - Joe recovered, his trial would resume immediately. If they hadn't found any evidence to clear him of the charges by then, he might very well end up in prison. Fenton knew without a doubt, should that happen, Joe would die there. No, he had to convince Frank to stay in Los Angeles at least until he could speak with Angela Taylor. That, he decided, was going to be the most challenging thing he had ever done in his life.

Several hours later, after making all the phone calls necessary to have the trial postponed, Fenton picked up the phone one more time, to make the call he had been dreading. He had put it off as long as possible and knew if he didn't call Frank soon, then Frank would be trying to get in touch with Joe to offer moral support for whatever the day's court proceedings held in store for him. Glancing at the post it note stuck to the calendar on his desk, he dialed the number of the hotel where Frank was staying.

"Hello?" Frank answered immediately.

"Still on East coast time, I see?" Fenton joked. It wasn't much past five in the morning on the West coast.

"Yeah. I couldn't really sleep. I know you'll think I'm crazy, Dad, but is Joe okay? I've had a really bad feeling about him ever since I woke up."

Fenton remained silent. He had hoped to ease into it, but Frank had other ideas.

"Dad? Is Joe okay? He's all right, isn't he?" Frank asked again, panic rising in his voice.

"No, Frank, he's not," Fenton said, quietly. "He remembered. He remembered everything."

oooOOOooo

Frank sat down heavily on the bed. He had wanted to be there if and when Joe remembered, to support and comfort his brother. He understood he was only a little boy himself when it had happened, but ever since the night his parents told him, he couldn't shake the feeling he had somehow deserted his brother when Joe needed him most. He was bound and determined not to desert him again. He had desperately wanted to be there for Joe when he finally remembered that horrible weekend.

"How is he?" Frank finally managed to ask.

"Not good, Frank. We had to admit him to the Campbell Psychiatric Center."

Frank inhaled sharply, unable to believe what he was hearing. "What?! Dad, he can't…he can't be that bad."

"He's totally unresponsive, Frank. He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't recognize anyone. He's trapped, Frank. Right now no one can reach him," Fenton said, his voice breaking. He took a deep breath and slowly explained everything, beginning with Vanessa's phone call and ending when he walked out of the Campbell Center after signing Joe in earlier that morning, still not really comprehending what had happened.

Frank remained silent for so long that Fenton thought they had been disconnected.

"Frank? Are you still there?"

"I'm coming home. Today."

Fenton steeled himself, knowing this would be an uphill battle. "No, Frank. Stay there."

"Absolutely not!" Frank said, hotly. "Joe needs me!"

"Yes, he does! He needs you to find something that will clear him of these murder charges!"

Frank was stunned. He couldn't believe his father didn't want him to come home!

"Frank, listen to me," Fenton said, gently. "If Joe were cognizant of what was going on around him, I would want you home immediately. But he's not. If you came home today, he wouldn't even know who you are." He hated to say it, knowing how hurt Frank would be, but he had no choice. "I'm choosing to believe that Joe _will_ get better. And when he does, his trial will resume and we will need that evidence. Frank, please. You'll do him more good where you are. As soon as you talk to Angela Taylor and get anything that will help, you can get the next flight home."

"Please, Dad," Frank begged. "Please let me come home now."

Fenton heard the heart break in Frank's voice. Joe had become so dependent on Frank the past few weeks, it seemed he couldn't get through the day without talking to his older brother every few hours. Frank had responded to Joe's desperate need for him and was more overprotective of Joe than he had ever been in his life. Fenton felt like he was tearing them apart but he knew he was right. Once Joe recovered, as Fenton prayed he would, and the trial resumed, they would not have the luxury of time to begin looking for evidence once again.

"Go see Mrs. Taylor today, Frank. Please. If you honestly feel she can't be of any help, come home tonight. Otherwise, you need to stay there and get whatever information you can."

"Fine," Frank said, stonily. Without another word, he hung up the phone.

Frank was angry. Bitterly angry. At his parents, for letting Joe stay with his aunt and uncle that weekend so long ago. At his aunt and uncle, for taking their eyes off Joe even for a second and allowing him to be kidnapped. At himself, for agreeing to go off with his friend for the weekend and leave Joe behind. At the world, simply for allowing people like Tilghman and Taylor to exist.

Frank knew Joe would be upset - devastated - when he finally remembered everything, but he never, _ever_ thought it would be this bad. These kinds of things weren't supposed to happen to good, decent people. They weren't supposed to happen to his family. The thought of his younger brother in a mental facility, caught in some world of limbo, was incomprehensible to him. Logically he understood what his father had said, but he still couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it.

"Damn you," he whispered, not sure whom he was cursing. The rage and anger quickly grew inside him.

"Damn you, Joshua Tilghman!" Frank yelled. Picking up a pillow off the bed, he flung it across the room nearly knocking over a lamp. Tears ran down his face as he let out an anguished wail.

"Damn you, Chris Taylor!" He picked up the trashcan and threw it at the mirror over the bureau, shards of glass flying everywhere.

Frank turned, banging his fists on the small desk over and over again and finally sank to his knees, sobbing.

"Why?" Picking up the files he had left open on the desk, he flung them across the room. "Why Joe?!" he screamed.

A sudden flash of memory from the night Vanessa had been raped appeared in front of his eyes. He saw magazines and newspapers flying through the air, as a result of Joe's uncontrollable rage. At the time he couldn't understand it, how someone could completely lose control of themselves like that. Frank had never experienced emotions so intense as to cause that kind of reaction. Now, however, he totally understood Joe's actions, and anguish, that night.

Helpless. He was completely and totally helpless. Everything he knew how to do, everything he excelled in could do nothing to bring his brother back to him. It didn't matter how intelligent he was, how well he could pilot a plane, how easily he could manipulate a computer or the Internet to get exactly what he wanted. None of that would help Joe right now. Frank had always been able to get Joe out of every tight situation he had found himself in. Always. Until now. Never before in his life had he felt as powerless, and useless, as he did right now. With nothing else to do, Frank sat and cried.

…

Frank didn't know how long he had cried, mourning his brother. When he finally stopped, the only thing he felt was…empty. Standing up he walked to the window, staring out as the city of Los Angeles woke up. Frank couldn't help but think about his brother. Joe loved this city. Frank could almost hear Joe's voice, as if he were standing right next to him.

_"Gorgeous weather, gorgeous beaches, gorgeous women._ _What's not to love?"_

Leaning his forehead against the glass, he stared at his own reflection and tried to contemplate life without his brother and found it was much more than he could deal with right now.

"Please, Joe. Don't leave me. Not like this," Frank whispered.

He stood watching the people hurrying along on the street below a moment longer, then turned and reached for the phone. He didn't even bother explaining to the desk clerk how the mirror in his room had been shattered. Just asked for it to be replaced and the cost added to his bill. Now on automatic pilot, Frank took a shower and prepared himself for the day ahead, feeling absolutely nothing.

oooOOOooo

Frank looked at the address written on the slip of paper on the seat next to him.

"17326 Sepulveda Boulevard," he murmured to himself.

Checking the numbers on the houses he passed, he began looking for a place to park. Finding a spot in the next block, he pulled in and got out of the rental car, backtracking to the Taylor house. Standing on the tiny porch, he hesitated a moment. The LAPD had informed Angela Taylor of her son's death – and the circumstances surrounding it – earlier in the week, yet she had still agreed to meet with Frank. He took a deep breath and knocked. The door was quickly answered by a woman in her late forties with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes, tinged with sadness.

"Frank Hardy?" she asked.

"Yes. Mrs. Taylor?"

"Please call me Angela," she said opening the door so Frank could come in. Leading him into a small, comfortably furnished living room, she gestured towards the couch. "Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," Frank replied, amazed at the graciousness of this woman. "I appreciate your willingness to see me."

"It's the least I can do. I am so sorry about everything your brother and his fiancée have had to go through," she said, sincerely. "I know it won't change anything, but please tell them how deeply I regret what Chris put them through."

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor."

"Please – Angela," she corrected him.

"Angela," Frank smiled. "Please accept my condolences…"

Immediately Angela held up a hand to stop him.

"That wasn't my son who died that night. Not inside – where it counts," she said, placing a hand on her chest for emphasis. "That was Joshua Tilghman's son."

Frank was silent for a moment as Angela gazed at a framed photograph on the end table. Frank couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the photo of Chris Taylor.

"Your brother didn't kill him," she said continuing to look at the picture. "My Chris died a long time ago." She seemed lost in memories for a few moments before turning back to Frank. "You'd like me to tell you about my son?" she asked and Frank nodded in response.

As Frank listened, Angela told him about her brilliant yet troubled son who eventually gave himself up to the demons passed down to him by his father. Having been ostracized by friends and neighbors, they had left Bayport shortly after Fenton Hardy rescued Joe and destroyed Tilghman's organization. As they moved from place to place, Chris tried to make friends in school and wanted desperately to fit in, but his genius level I.Q. made him an outcast. Angela had become concerned about Chris, as he seemed to become obsessed with Joe and blamed Joe for his father being suddenly torn from his life. Chris had been very close to his father and she hoped that he might build a relationship with her second husband when she remarried.

Those hopes were dashed the day George Taylor found a box hidden in Chris' closet. He and Angela were horrified to see scrapbooks and photo albums filled with pictures and articles on Joe. When she found the journal Chris kept with daily "letters" to his father, describing his plans to exact revenge on Joe, she took him for psychiatric counseling.

By that time, it was too late. Chris was almost eighteen years old and would soon be a legal adult. A week before his eighteenth birthday he left home without so much as a note and Angela had never heard from him again.

"Do you know where that journal is?" Frank asked, hopefully. If he could produce the journal where Taylor laid out the specifics of how he intended to get even with Joe, that could be all the proof needed for a jury to find Joe innocent of murder.

"I'm sorry," Angela said sadly. "He took it with him."

Frank's face fell. "I searched his apartment in Clayton Beach and there was absolutely nothing there either. Do you have any idea where he might keep something like that?"

"No, I don't. After George and I found the box in his closet all his personal possessions, the things that were important to him, suddenly disappeared from the house. I never did find out where he took them."

Looking at the clock on the wall, she inhaled sharply. "I had no idea we'd been talking so long."

Frank followed her gaze and found it was close to six o'clock in the evening.

"I kept a box with the things Chris left behind, just in case he came home someday." Frank could hear the heartbreak in her voice. "My husband and I are going to a retirement party tonight for one of his colleagues, but if you like you can come back tomorrow and look through the box."

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?" Frank asked.

"Of course not. It's the least I can do after what your brother and his fiancée have suffered through."

"Thank you, Angela."

"Why don't you come by around ten tomorrow morning. That should give you plenty of time to search through his things."

"I will. Thank you again," Frank said walking to the door.

Angela watched as he left the house and retreated down the street, truly hoping he would be able to find something that would help Joe when he returned in the morning.

Frank returned to his hotel dejected and depressed. He got in a little after seven and immediately called his father. He'd been praying Joe would start to recognize the people and things around him and hoped his father would have good news for him. Unfortunately, the news wasn't what he wanted to hear. Joe's condition hadn't changed at all. Frank had fought to hold back the tears he wanted to cry for his brother but once he hung up the phone, they came pouring out. He cried until he was sure he had no more tears left. And then he decided - this one day of crying was all he would allow. Now that he knew for sure Chris Taylor had kept a journal, he wanted to focus all his energy on finding it. Closing his eyes to go to sleep, he thought of Joe.

_'I'll find it, little brother._ _I promise you I'll find it,'_ Frank thought, as he drifted off into a restless sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for your support of this story!! Your reviews have been so kind. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

**Innocent**

**Chapter 25**

Vanessa, Fenton and Laura arrived at the Campbell Center later that morning, several hours after Joe had been admitted. Upon entering Joe's room, they found Dr. Harold Fitzwater examining the admittance forms that had been completed when Joe arrived. After introductions were made, Dr. Fitzwater turned to Fenton and Laura.

"Would either of you be able to give me any more details on what exactly happened to Joe when he was a child? These papers give a brief description but in order to help him, I'll need as much information as possible." He glanced at the bed, where Joe was curled up facing the opposite wall. "Unfortunately, I can't ask Joe himself."

Fenton took a deep breath before replying. "I can give you all the information you need, doctor." He watched as Vanessa walked to the opposite side of the bed and kneeled on the floor, looking Joe in the eyes. "But could we do it somewhere else. Your office, perhaps?"

"Certainly. Right this way," Dr. Fitzwater said.

Fenton hugged his wife tightly and kissed her on the cheek before following the doctor out of the room.

"Morning, Baby," Vanessa whispered, kissing Joe on the cheek. His face held no expression at all. His eyes were wide open but they were staring vacantly out into space, dull and lifeless. She wanted to turn and run back to their apartment, where she could tell herself Joe was simply out of town on a case and would be home very soon. She didn't want to acknowledge and accept that this is what their lives had become. She suddenly became terrified as the worst case scenarios swirled around in her head. Vanessa felt the panic surge, the flashbacks trying to push their way to the surface. She almost lost control before she realized if she fell apart now, when Joe needed her most, Chris Taylor would win. Joshua Tilghman would win. She vowed never to let that happen.

Vanessa pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed holding Joe's hand tightly. She had hoped that by the time she arrived, Joe would have been more aware of his surroundings. Secretly, Vanessa had hoped that when she walked through the door of his room, he would look up at her, smile and greet her with "Hey, Baby!" even though she knew she was hoping in vain. When she saw Joe's face, she understood there would be no quick recovery. Bringing Joe's hand to her lips, she kissed it softly.

Hoping that some part of the Joe she knew and loved was still there, buried under all the torment, Vanessa began talking to Joe. She told him how much she loved him, how she would always be there for him and help him get through this if he would just come back. She drifted into talking about anything and everything from the weather to sports to their wedding, hoping Joe would recognize her voice and find comfort in knowing she was there. She was not going to sit back and quietly watch him slip away. Joe had been there for her at the lowest point in her life and she was determined to do the same for him. She would not give up on him. Ever.

…

Laura sat back and watched, both thankful for Vanessa and amazed by her. Thankful that Vanessa had found her way into Joe's life and helped him return to the happy, fun-loving person he had been before Iola Morton was killed. She prayed Vanessa could work that magic one more time. Laura found she was also amazed by the inner strength Vanessa had shown ever since the trial started. She had been so strong and supportive of Joe, it was easy to forget she was still dealing with her own painful recovery.

A while later Fenton returned to the room, looking drawn and pale. Laura knew reliving this horror was almost as hard on him as it was on Joe. She recalled the many nights after Joe had been found, when Fenton sat in his office and cried - for his son and for all the children who had endured even worse fates than Joe had. As Fenton pulled up a chair next to his wife and took her hand in his, Laura wondered if Fenton would find himself back in therapy once again before this nightmare was finally over.

oooOOOooo

This day seemed to be the longest Fenton could ever recall. He and Laura had sat and watched in awe as Vanessa kept up a continuous, one-way conversation with Joe, stopping only when the doctors or nurses would come in to check on him. At lunchtime, Biff and Phil had stopped by to see Joe, hoping he had improved. Seeing the devastated looks on their faces broke Laura's heart. It continued like that throughout the day and into the early evening with Joe's friends either calling or stopping by to see how he was doing. Callie arrived as soon as she finished work for the day, sitting next to Vanessa offering her friend comfort and strength. Right before visiting hours ended Ezra Collig and Con Riley appeared in Joe's room, both shocked at what had happened.

"I'm so sorry," Chief Collig said sadly. "If only we had caught Taylor sooner, none of this would have happened."

"Ezra, you did the best you could. Everyone did. And Joe would have remembered eventually," Fenton told him. Looking closely at his old friend, Fenton thought he saw tears in Ezra Collig's eyes. Putting an arm on his shoulder, Fenton led him out into the hall, where Ezra quickly wiped away a few tears.

"I'm sorry," Ezra said again, glancing at the door. "You know over the years Joe has kept me on my toes. His unorthodox methods of investigating, the way he stretches the truth without actually lying, rushes in without thinking about the consequences have annoyed me no end, but…" he stopped for a moment, drawing in a deep shaky breath. "I really miss him."

Fenton was momentarily shocked. He knew Ezra was fond of his sons but had no idea how much he really cared about them.

"I know, Ezra. We all do," Fenton said quietly. "Thanks for stopping by. I know in my heart Joe will get better. I refuse to believe otherwise. And when he does, I'll tell him you were here."

Ezra nodded, wiping his eyes. "Thank you. But, uh, you can leave out the part about how much I miss him," he smiled.

"I will," Fenton laughed softly. He had forgotten how good it felt to laugh.

Shortly after Con and Ezra left, visiting hours concluded and Fenton, Laura and Vanessa returned to the Hardy home. Vanessa picked at the dinner Laura prepared, but after a few moments excused herself and retreated up the stairs to Joe's old bedroom. Laura and Fenton finished their dinner in silence, each lost in their own thoughts about what the future held for their youngest son. After helping Laura with the dinner dishes, Fenton retreated to his office and waited. He knew Frank would be calling as soon as he returned to the hotel. He hoped Frank would have better news for him than he had for Frank. Shortly after ten, the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Dad, how's Joe? Any change?" Frank asked the second his father had answered.

"I'm afraid not. He's still the same," Fenton replied.

Frank sat on the bed, biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from coming. He desperately wanted to hear something - anything - to indicate Joe was improving at least a little bit.

"I know it's not what you wanted to hear, Frank. We were all hoping he'd recognize something or someone but…" His voice trailed off. "Hopefully, things will be better tomorrow. Joe will get better. I know he will," Fenton said, trying to convince himself as much as Frank. "Now tell me what happened with Angela Taylor." He changed the subject, hoping to distract Frank from worrying about his brother, even if it were only for a few minutes. "I'm hoping your news is better than mine."

"Not much. Angela Taylor was very willing to talk to me about her son and even a little bit about Tilghman. She's really been through the wringer. She confirmed that her son hated Joe to the point of obsession and blamed Joe completely for Tilghman going to prison. Apparently Taylor was very close to his father before he was arrested."

"Was she able to give you anything at all? Any information we can use?" Fenton asked, feeling desperation start to creep up on him.

"She did say Taylor had some kind of journal that he wrote in daily. He wrote letters to his father in it describing how much he hated Joe and detailing his plans for revenge. One day her second husband found it and that's how they found out about his obsession with Joe. Unfortunately, Taylor removed that journal and any other personal things that were important to him from the house. Then a week before his eighteenth birthday he left home and she never heard from him again."

"That poor woman," Fenton said sadly. He couldn't even imagine losing one of his sons like that. "But this proves you were right, Frank. Taylor did keep a written record of everything he did and still planned to do. If you can find it, the jury will have no choice but to vote not guilty."

Realizing there was nothing more to discuss, Frank ended the conversation. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay. Talk to you then," Fenton replied tiredly.

"Dad?"

"Yes."

"When you see Joe tomorrow tell him…tell him I miss him and I'll be home soon," Frank said, his voice thick with emotion.

"I will, son. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Frank said, hanging up the phone.

Alone in his hotel room, Frank lay down on the bed and cried.

…

Turning off the lights, Fenton slowly climbed the stairs hoping sleep would provide a much needed respite from this nightmare. Climbing into bed next to his wife, he prayed the morning would bring some small bit of good news. He did not want to admit it to himself much less anybody else, but he was starting to lose hope of a happy ending for Joe and Vanessa. He desperately wanted to believe Joe would recover, the outcome of the trial would be in his favor and by this time next year, Joe and Vanessa would be newlyweds.

_'Please, God,'_ he prayed. _'Give me something - anything - to hold on to.'_ As he closed his eyes all he could see was Joe curled up in the hospital bed, lost to the world. He couldn't stop the tears that led him into a fitful sleep.

oooOOOooo

Fenton Hardy found that sleep did not come easily these days and awoke several hours later. In those early morning hours, unable to sleep, he retreated to his office as he had done so often lately, hoping the problems of others would distract him from his own. However, as he sat at his desk staring at the long list of messages he had retrieved from his office voice mail, he found the distraction was not going to work this time. For the first time in his life, he did not care about all these people who needed him to solve a crime, oversee their security or find a lost loved one. He had his own lost loved one and he was starting to fear he would never get his son back.

Thinking back on his life, Fenton wondered if maybe he had taken it for granted and never been quite thankful enough for all he had been blessed with and now his family was paying for it. When Frank was born, he and Laura were thrilled beyond words. When Joe came along a little over a year later, their family was complete. Their boys were happy and healthy and had a very special bond Fenton had never seen before in his life. They were as different as night and day and yet they were inseparable.

There was never a dull moment with Joe in their lives. Fenton smiled fondly at the memories of his youngest son whom he had nicknamed Tornado Joe for his ability to enter a room, wreak utter havoc for thirty seconds and then seemingly disappear. Lord knows Joe needed constant supervision, especially when he was young, and Frank had taken on the role proudly. Joe had come to depend on his older brother for friendship, companionship and protection. Even when Joe was being punished for breaking one rule or another, Frank would hover close by to make sure Fenton was not being too harsh with his little brother.

Fenton chuckled recalling the night in the hospital when Frank had solemnly presented his little brother with Bear. Joe was terrified of spending the night alone in the hospital and Frank had wanted to give his brother something to calm his fears. Fenton clearly remembered standing with Laura, watching Frank in one of his finer big brother moments.

_"This bear has magical powers," five-year-old Frank told his younger brother._

_"Really?" Joe's blue eyes grew wide._

_"He's gonna protect you tonight since they won't let me do it." Frank wrinkled his nose at the "mean" hospital staff that had refused to let him stay the night with his baby brother._

_"Are you sure?" Joe asked cautiously. He wasn't at all sure the little stuffed bear could protect him as well as he knew his big brother could._

_"Oh, yes. And not just here. He'll protect you whenever I'm not around," Frank said soberly._

_Even at four years old, Joe couldn't just let that be. _

_"What if I don't have him with me? And you're not around either? And the monsters come?" Joe's eyes were huge thinking of the awful possibilities._

_Fenton and Laura exchanged an amused glance waiting to hear how Frank would answer this to Joe's satisfaction._

_Frank put his little hand on Joe's shoulder. "Then I would come back for you."_

_"Promise?"_

_"Promise," Frank answered with as much seriousness as he could muster. "I'll always come back."_

"Oh, dear God!" Fenton drew in a sharp breath. In that instant, everything suddenly became crystal clear. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before!

'_He promised.'_ Fenton heard Joe's voice clearly. _'He never came. He never came.'_ He could see Joe sitting on the floor repeating those three words endlessly. He grabbed the phone, frantically punching in the number on the post it note.

One ring, two, three. "Answer the phone, damn it!"

"Hello?" the voice was half asleep, but it was Frank's.

"Frank!" Fenton practically screamed into the phone. "You have to come home! NOW!"

"Is it Joe?" Frank was instantly awake despite the early hour in Los Angeles.

"Yes! He's waiting for you, Frank! He was waiting for you then and he's waiting for you now!" Fenton cried into the phone.

"Dad, calm down." Frank said in a soothing voice. His father was making no sense and Frank was starting to think he had finally snapped. "You aren't making any sense. Calm down and explain it to me slowly."

Fenton took in a deep, ragged breath, realizing how ridiculous he must sound.

"Frank, do you remember when you gave Bear to Joe?" he asked only slightly more composed.

"Yes. Well, not in great detail, but yes, I remember."

"Well, I do recall it in great detail. Frank, he asked you what would happen if Bear wasn't with him and you weren't around. What would happen if the monsters came."

"Okay, I don't remember that exactly but if you say so. What did I tell him?"

"You said that you would come back. You promised him. If he was in trouble, wherever you were, you would always come back for him." Fenton's voice broke. "Don't you see? He's in trouble and he's waiting for you to come back."

Frank immediately understood and his eyes filled with tears. "He was waiting for me to come rescue him from Tilghman."

"Yes! And he's waiting for you now. I just can't believe I didn't see it sooner."

"But you said he doesn't respond to anyone." Frank didn't want to get his hopes up. What if his father was just grasping at straws?

"You're not just anyone to him, Frank. I know in my heart he's waiting for _you_ to come. I know he'll respond to you." He didn't try to hide his grief from his oldest son. "I want my son back, and you're the only one who can give him to me."

Frank had never heard his father sound so brokenhearted. All the comments Fenton had made over the last month about how much he missed hearing Joe's laugh and seeing his infectious smile replayed themselves in Frank's mind – and heart. He had always thought of his father as emotionally invincible. He was suddenly ashamed that he hadn't even noticed how devastated his father was having watched Joe's downward spiral first hand.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I know I practically ordered you to stay in Los Angeles, but you were right. I should have let you come home immediately."

Frank wasn't positive, but he thought his father was crying. "It's okay, Dad. Don't worry about that now. Let me call the airlines and see how soon I can get a flight out of here. I'll call you back in half an hour."

"Thank you," Fenton whispered.

Frank suddenly felt the need to take care of his father. "It'll be all right, Dad. I'll be home by tonight."


	26. Chapter 26

Thank you to everyone who continues to support this story with your kind reviews. I really appreciate it. :-)

Calathiel of Mirkwood – Definitely MILK chocolate! :p

**Innocent**

**Chapter 26**

Frank Hardy stared out the window of the plane. The bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds that floated by were helping to calm the emotions fighting for control inside him. Frank smiled a bittersweet smile, thinking of his younger brother. Joe always wanted the window seat. Whenever the brothers had to fly anywhere, be it for business or pleasure, the second they found out, Joe would immediately inform Frank he had to have the window seat. Frank would often playfully argue with Joe that it was his turn to sit by the window, getting Joe quite worked up about having to sit on the aisle or, heaven forbid, in the middle seat. In the end, he always let Joe sit by the window. He laughed recalling the one time he didn't give in and accepted a seat in a different row so he could sit by the window. The minute the "Fasten Seat Belt" sign had been turned off, Joe was sitting in the middle seat next to him, deciding he'd rather be stuck in the middle with his brother for company than sit next to the window alone.

Although Frank would never admit it to his brother, Joe was his one big weakness. Thinking back on their lives, he couldn't recall ever denying Joe anything. It certainly didn't help that Joe had been blessed with more than his fair share of charm and over the years had learned how to use that charm to his full advantage. Frank joked that Joe had turned it into a fine art form and had gotten so good at charming people he had actually been able to use those skills and get Callie to change her mind on occasion; something even Frank had never been able to do.

Frank leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. He felt the burning sensation start and willed himself not to cry. When he and Joe had officially joined their father's practice, he had forced himself to accept the fact that one day he might very well lose his brother in the "line of duty". Their work was dangerous for all of them and even though Joe had grown and matured he still had the impulsive streak that, more often than not, got him into trouble. Frank had thought of life without Joe on occasion to try and prepare himself should the unthinkable happen. In his worst nightmare, the scenario he was facing now never once entered his mind and he found he was completely unprepared for it.

Apparently the doctors at the Campbell Center had been trying to prepare the Hardy family for the very real possibility that Joe might never recover. They felt the trauma was too great and he had suppressed it too long. Now that it had finally surfaced, it was more than he could deal with. The doctors had told Laura and Fenton that Joe might very well remain trapped in the world of horror and abuse he had experienced as a six-year-old boy, for the rest of his life.

It was incomprehensible to Frank that he might have to see his brother everyday yet never again be able to talk with him, hear his infectious laughter or see the twinkle in his eyes and the mischievous smile on his lips right before he let loose with one of his infamous one liners.

No more football games, concerts, camping trips, vacations or family holidays. No more saving his little brother when he took one too many chances and ended up in trouble. Not getting the chance to watch his brother walk down the aisle and experience the same incredible happiness Frank had when he finally married the woman he loved. A small cry caught in his throat.

_'Who would be my children's godfather?'_

To kill someone's spirit and soul but not their body, to let them exist in a world of torment with no chance of escape had to be life's cruelest joke. Frank could not imagine seeing Joe day after day knowing that inside, the kid brother that had lit up his whole life was gone. Frank was determined that was not going to be his brother's future.

_'I'm coming, Joe. I'm coming.'_

oooOOOooo

After disembarking from the plane, Frank scanned the crowd of people waiting to greet the passengers. Off to the side he saw Callie waving at him. Easily weaving through the crowd, he was at her side in seconds. Scooping her up into his arms he held her tightly, so glad to finally be home.

"How's Joe? Any change?" he asked anxiously, looking into her brown eyes.

"No," she said sadly, her eyes beginning to water. "He's still the same."

Frank hadn't really expected any other answer but he had hoped. He knew his mother and father told Joe that Frank was on his way home. His father had been so convinced Joe would respond to Frank even when he hadn't responded to anyone else, Frank had gotten his hopes up that maybe his brother would show some sign of acknowledgement when Fenton had told him Frank would be arriving that evening.

Frank put an arm around Callie's shoulders and the couple made their way to the parking garage. Arriving at the car, Callie opened the passenger side door and gestured for Frank to get in.

"I'll drive. You rest," she ordered.

"Thank you." He kissed her softly. He had thought about seeing Joe for the entire flight and now that it was going to happen very shortly, he had no idea what he was going to say to his younger brother.

In all honesty, he was terrified of seeing Joe. Terrified that he too, would not be able to get through to Joe. If that were to happen, Frank knew that meant his brother was gone forever. He almost felt that as long as he avoided confronting Joe, he could keep the hope alive that Joe would recover. If Joe rejected Frank, as he had everyone else, there would be no hope.

"How's Vanessa holding up?" Frank asked.

"Frank, she has been unbelievable," Callie said, her heart breaking at the thought of what Vanessa had to be going through. "She's at the hospital every single morning when visiting hours start. She sits with Joe all day, talking to him; absolutely refuses to leave his side. She's practically hoarse from talking non-stop. They have to throw her out when visiting hours are over."

Frank reached over and wiped a tear from Callie's cheek.

"I don't know if I could do that if I were in her situation," Callie continued. "Not with everything else she has to deal with. It has to be tearing her apart to see Joe like that. _He_ was the one who got her through the aftermath of the rape. She depended on him totally. And now she's turned around and is doing exactly the same thing for him."

"Seems like she's an awful lot stronger than any of us gave her credit for, thank God," Frank said quietly, looking out the window. "Anyone else probably would have left Joe long ago."

"She hasn't given up on him. She's convinced he'll recover."

"I hope she's right."

Callie heard the desperation in Frank's voice and wished she could do something to take away his pain. She had no idea how Frank was going to cope if Joe didn't recover. She had come to the conclusion if Joe were to live like this for the rest of his life, it would be worse than if he had died. She wasn't sure Frank could take it.

When they finally arrived at the Campbell Center, Callie was well aware that Frank was taking his time getting out of the car and walking to the building. She knew his father's request had left him feeling as if he were solely responsible for bringing Joe back from whatever hell he was living in right now. Fenton hadn't meant to do it, but he had inadvertently pinned all his hopes for Joe's recovery on Frank. He was convinced that once Joe saw his older brother, he would leave whatever world he was trapped in and return to the present immediately. Frank, on the other hand, was not so sure. Callie felt Joe might very well respond to Frank, but she was also trying to be realistic if for no other reason than to pick up the pieces of Frank's shattered heart if he was not able to get through to his brother.

"Okay," Frank said, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."

Frank and Callie were silent as they walked through the hospital and took the elevator to the seventh floor. Callie held tightly to Frank's hand, trying to comfort him. She could feel his anxiety and apprehension at what might happen in the next few minutes.

Arriving at the door to Joe's room, Frank stood for a moment collecting his thoughts. Finally, he pushed the door open and walked in. As soon as his mother saw him, she jumped up and ran to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she cried, saying nothing. Frank held her tightly, trying to comfort her. Looking up he saw his father watching them. He felt the look in his father's eyes at that moment would haunt him for the rest of his life. Frank and his father were exceptionally close, but Joe always was and always would be Fenton's baby. Frank hadn't realized, until this very moment, how devastated his father was by Joe's breakdown.

Releasing his mother, Frank walked to his father and hugged him tightly. He suddenly felt as if he was now "head of the family" as he felt his father trembling.

"I want my son back," Fenton whispered to Frank, his voice breaking.

Frank hugged his father a little tighter before releasing him. Taking a few more steps towards the bed, Frank finally looked at his younger brother and thought he could literally feel his heart breaking.

Joe was curled up in the fetal position, with his back to Frank. Frank could see the I.V. lines disappearing under the covers, presumably into Joe's arm. Since being admitted, Joe hadn't spoken or acknowledged anyone. He either slept or stared out into space with a hollow, vacant look in his eyes. Since he wasn't eating or drinking in that condition, the I.V.'s had been started immediately upon his admittance to the hospital.

Frank thought he had prepared himself, but he realized now he was not at all ready to see his brother like this. He thought he felt himself starting to sway then Callie was by his side, her arm around his waist, supporting him, both physically and emotionally. He put his arm around her shoulders, leaning against her for a moment. Hoping to get strength from a higher source, he released her and walked to the other side of the bed.

Vanessa was there, sitting in a chair holding Joe's hand, stroking his hair and whispering to him. At least she was attempting to whisper, Frank thought. Her lips were moving but no sound was coming out. She had apparently developed laryngitis from her non-stop, one-sided conversations with Joe for the past two days. Frank found himself in awe, once again, at Vanessa's devotion to Joe.

Leaning forward, Vanessa kissed Joe softly and then stood up. She hugged Frank and kissed him on the cheek. Smiling sadly, she pointed to the chair, indicating he should sit down. As soon as he did, she stood behind him, hands on his shoulders, still wanting to be as close to Joe as possible.

With a shaking hand, Frank reached out and touched his brother's cheek. Joe was staring, listlessly into space. The vacant look in his eyes making it painfully clear, he was really not here in the present.

"Hey, little bro," Frank said softly, praying for some kind of response from Joe. He could feel everyone's eyes on him and felt the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. He leaned forward and looked into Joe's eyes, shivering at the vacant emptiness staring back at him.

"I love you, Joe. I need you to come back. We all need you to come back to us."

Sitting back, Frank looked again at his brothers blue eyes that used to be so full of life and now were so dead. Frank realized he wasn't getting through to Joe at all. A panic started somewhere deep in his soul and began to build.

"Please, Joe," Frank begged, his voice quivering. "We'll help you. We'll help you get through this but you have to come back to us first. Please, Joe… _don't leave me_."

As Joe closed his eyes, essentially shutting his brother out, Frank's last bit of hope died. He looked up at his parents with tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry. I tried…" Frank found he couldn't continue. He stood up, needing to get out of the room. His soul had just died and he had to get out of that room before the rest of him died, too.

Callie sensed his need to flee and came around to that side of the bed. She took his hand and wordlessly led him out of the room and down the hall to the waiting area. Once there, Frank sat down heavily in one of the chairs. He was numb. He couldn't fathom how he was going to make it through the next thirty seconds, let alone the rest of his life. He now understood what if felt like when the person you are closest to in the world, the person you depend on, the person who never lets you down, suddenly dies. He didn't know who was lying in that hospital room down the hall but it wasn't Joe. His brother was dead.

Fenton and Laura had quickly followed Frank out of the room, leaving Vanessa alone with Joe once again, absolutely refusing to leave his side.

Frank could hear his mother sobbing in his father's arms. His father…Frank couldn't even look him in the eye. He knew his father had been counting on him to bring Joe back to his family. He felt he'd let them all down. He didn't know if he would ever be able to face his father again.

"I need to go home," Frank said, gripping Callie's hand. Frank knew he was on the verge of a complete breakdown and he did not want it to happen here.

"Okay," Callie said a bit hesitantly. She couldn't understand why Frank would want to leave his family at a time like this but she could clearly hear the distress and desperation in his voice.

As they got up to leave, Vanessa came barreling in to the waiting area, slamming into Frank. Tears were streaming down her face and she was pulling on his arm, apparently trying to get him to follow her. She was trying to say something to him, but with the laryngitis nothing was coming out. Fearing she too was nearing the same kind of collapse as his mother, he allowed her to pull him down the hall with Callie and his parents close behind.

She dragged him back in to Joe's room, pulling him to the opposite side of the bed. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his brother like this. Vanessa pulled violently on his arm until he opened his eyes and saw her pointing frantically at Joe.

Looking down at his brother, Frank couldn't understand her agitation. Joe had his eyes closed and to anyone who didn't know what was going on, appeared to be sleeping.

Callie, Laura and Fenton stood on the other side of the bed, unable to see Joe's face, but watching Vanessa trying desperately to communicate with Frank.

"What's wrong with him?" Callie finally asked, wondering how the situation could possibly get any worse.

"I don't know," Frank began, shrugging his shoulders and spreading his arms in a "beats me" gesture. "I think he's sleeping but–"

Frank gasped out loud as a strong hand suddenly clamped down on his arm. Looking down, he saw Joe's hand gripping his arm so tightly the knuckles were white.

"Oh my God." Frank's vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears. He didn't know if he knelt down or if his legs buckled under him, but Frank was now on his knees, eye level with his brother, who still had a vise-like grip on his arm.

Frank reached up with his other hand and touched Joe's hair.

"Joe? Can you hear me?" he asked. He barely recognized his own voice, shaking with emotion. "Come on, Joe. I know you're in there. Talk to me, little brother."

Joe opened his eyes and blinked, slowly at first, then more rapidly. His eyes began darting around as if he were trying to find something to focus on.

"Right here, bro. I'm right here," Frank said, his voice breaking.

Vanessa had knelt down on the floor beside him and rested her forehead on his shoulder. He could feel his shirt becoming wet from her tears.

Following the sound of Frank's voice, Joe finally looked at him. Frank's heart sank as he saw that same far-away look in his brother's blue eyes, but Frank refused to look away. Joe had reached out and grabbed his arm a moment earlier when Frank was speaking. Maybe it was nothing… but maybe it was everything. He wasn't sure but it seemed as if there was some spark of recognition when Joe looked at him.

Frank was suddenly very aware of the quietness in the room. He was sure if he had dropped a pin, it would have sounded like an explosion. Slowly, Frank leaned forward and kissed Joe on the forehead. Pulling back he saw Joe staring at him. His heart caught in his throat as he realized that far-away look was gone. Joe locked onto his brothers brown eyes. His words were soft, but clear...

"I knew you'd come back for me." Joe's voice was barely a whisper. "You promised."


	27. Chapter 27

To Polaris '05, Alicia, TraSan, HelenLouise, Calathiel, Miss Fenway, Cheryl, pally, josie, Phx, and MissMe113 – thank you so much for your continued support and kind words. :-) We're getting close to the light at the end of the tunnel; only four more chapters to go after this one.

And thanks Phx, for the heads up. ;-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 27**

Joe lay on his side, staring out the window of his hospital room. The medication he'd been given to help him sleep had worn off a while ago. He watched as the inky darkness slowly changed to shades of gray as dawn approached. It struck him that the drab gray colors matched his mood perfectly. He couldn't recall ever feeling this way in his life. Even after Iola had died, even after Vanessa had been raped, even after he had been charged with murder, he had never felt the all-consuming depression that had overwhelmed him and completely taken control.

While Frank had been able to bring Joe back to the present, he couldn't erase the horrible memories that now haunted Joe constantly. Most of the time, Joe wished he hadn't remembered anything at all. A few times he wished Frank had left him in that world of limbo so he wouldn't have to face the depression and pain. A pain so bad Joe swore he could feel it deep in his soul. A line from one of his favorite songs popped into his head. _'I swear the soul gets blistered along the way…'_ That was exactly how he felt; like he had a blistered soul. He actually preferred to feel numb; to feel nothing at all. But _they_ wouldn't let him. The doctors, the nurses, his family – they all insisted that now that he had remembered, he had to talk about it.

Therapy. He even hated the word. _You have to go to therapy_, they told him. Yes, it would hurt. It would be difficult and painful, but in the end it would be worth it. Joe had refused. He would _not_ go to therapy; he couldn't. He was having trouble finding the words to tell them why, but now he would have to.

Joe had been told last night, if he didn't agree to outpatient therapy, he would not be released. As far as he was concerned, it was blackmail. He was being held hostage. What hurt the most was that his 'captors' were not the doctors or the hospital but his own parents. The doctor who had been treating Joe felt he was not mentally competent to make decisions concerning his own care. Since he and Vanessa were not yet married and she was not legally his wife, that responsibility fell to his parents. The doctor had convinced Fenton and Laura that Joe should not be released until and unless he agreed to therapy.

'_Vanessa.'_ Thinking of her, he almost smiled.

The only one who never tried to get him to talk. She came to see him every day, all day. She sat with him, held his hand, told him how much she loved him and missed him and couldn't wait for him to come home. She never insisted he go to therapy or talk about what he had seen. Why couldn't they all be like her? Why couldn't they see how much the thought of therapy terrified him? He shivered just thinking about it. He was still afraid, very afraid of one thing – that he really _hadn't_ remembered everything yet.

Joe had been told that after Fenton had found him huddled on the floor in that bedroom, he had immediately taken Joe to the emergency room to be examined; to be sure he had not been abused. His eyes burned and the tears fell before he could stop them as he now remembered that examination in vivid detail. Joe had since realized that was what he had been remembering that day in the courtroom and was thankful all the memories hadn't come flooding back right then and there.

When his father had taken him to the emergency room, the doctor had assured Fenton that Joe had not been sexually abused or molested in any way. He had been beaten, and quite badly at that, but had suffered no other physical abuse.

'_What if the doctor was wrong? What if he missed something? What if he made a mistake?'_ Joe's thoughts swirled around that horrifying possibility.

The very slim chance that the doctor had been incorrect was the sole reason Joe was so afraid of therapy. What if he had been forced to endure the same awful abuses he had seen the other children suffer through? What if he had been forced to perform the vile, disgusting acts that played themselves out in his mind over and over again? Joe was deathly afraid that he had been an unwilling participant in all of it and buried the memories so deeply they hadn't come to the surface yet; something that would surely change if he were to begin seeing a therapist.

Joe suddenly felt his eyelids become heavy. He struggled to keep his eyes open. With sleep, came the nightmares. The nightmares that were all the more terrifying now that he knew they were real. Unable to stay awake any longer, Joe fell into an uneasy sleep fearing he would soon awake screaming and in a cold sweat.

oooOOOooo

Vanessa had arrived the minute visiting hours started as she had done the day before and intended to do as long as Joe was here. Joe had been sleeping when she arrived forty-five minutes earlier and continued to do so now. So she pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down to read one of the magazines she had brought to keep her occupied. Vanessa tried to come prepared for the day with things to keep busy when Joe had to leave the room for the various tests the doctors seemed to come up with on a moment's notice. She wanted to be there for Joe and hated leaving the room not wanting him to return to find her gone and be left alone with his thoughts - something she knew was not the best thing for him right now.

Vanessa was happy to see he seemed to be sleeping peacefully since she had arrived. The last few weeks he wasn't able to sleep much and when he did it wouldn't be long before the dreams started. What little sleep he did manage to get was anything but restful. Unfortunately, knowing why Joe was having the recurring nightmares did nothing to stop them.

Leaning forward, she brushed the hair out of his eyes.

_'Why won't you go to therapy, Joe?'_ she thought sadly. She knew there had to be a reason. A very specific reason, although whatever it was, Joe was not talking.

While Vanessa never said it out loud, she had been desperately hoping he would change his mind about seeing a therapist. Ironically, Vanessa was the only one who hadn't been pushing him to begin therapy even though she was also the one who knew firsthand how much it would help. She didn't push because she knew exactly how he felt. In the first few days following the rape, she too had resisted the idea of therapy. She had wanted to forget the horrible attack ever happened, not relive every detail of it on a daily basis. When she realized she couldn't deal with the aftermath alone, she agreed to begin seeing Dr. Jennings. In fact Joe was the one who had talked her into it.

Admittedly, the first session was the hardest and she actually felt worse after that first session than she had before she went. But she kept going back and was soon amazed at the progress she was making. With Joe witnessing all the good therapy had done for her, she was a little surprised at his unflinching, adamant refusal to even consider therapy. But she was determined to support him and not push it. Joe had told her he felt as if everyone were ganging up on him about it and she wanted to make sure he felt he had at least one person on his side no matter what. Still, she knew there was more to his refusal to begin therapy than he was letting on. She hoped whatever it was would come to the surface as she knew deep inside Joe would never be able to get past this and recover on his own.

Severely depressed and absolutely refusing to talk to anyone about what had happened to him so long ago, he was not even close to the Joe they all knew and loved. Joe was insistent he could easily forget about the horrors and abuses he had suffered through at the hands of Josh Tilghman if he were just allowed to go home. Stubborn as usual, he firmly believed he did not need therapy and would not even consider it as an option. Joe insisted he just wanted to go home and forget about it so he could get on with his life.

Vanessa looked up as she heard the door open and saw Frank come in. She put a finger to her lips, indicating he should remain silent, but stood to give him a warm hug.

"Has he been asleep since you got here?" Frank whispered looking at his younger brother.

"Yes," Vanessa rasped.

"Man, you sound horrible," Frank winced.

"He thinks it's sexy," Vanessa smiled, jerking her head towards Joe's.

"It is," Joe mumbled, surprising both Frank and Vanessa.

"Hey, Baby," Vanessa said in a low, scratchy voice. "Good morning."

Joe smiled at her, eagerly accepting a hug and a kiss from Vanessa and holding her close for a few moments. Frank smiled himself when he saw Joe smile, even though it disappeared as quickly as it had come. It seemed Joe's smiles were few and far between these days and reserved almost exclusively for Vanessa.

Not surprising, Frank thought. He was ashamed to admit there were times he was so wrapped up in worrying about Joe, he forgot it had only been a very short while ago that Vanessa had been raped, setting off this terrible chain of events. She'd been so strong since Joe had been arrested; it was easy to forget she was still in the very early stages of recovery herself. Frank admonished himself to be better about remembering that and give her more support in the future.

Frank's thoughts were interrupted when his parents came walking into the room. Laura went straight to Joe's side and kissed him. She then began the "mother checklist" as Joe called it - the same questions she asked whenever Frank or Joe was sick or injured in any way. Frank exchanged an amused glance with his father as they listened to the question and answer session that never changed.

"How are you feeling?" Laura asked, taking Joe's hand.

"Fine, Mom," Joe replied.

"You don't look fine."

"I'm fine. Really."

"Are you eating?"

"Yes, Mom. I'm eating."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Frank stifled a laugh as he knew this would continue until Joe got so exasperated he would roll his eyes insisting he was fine, he was eating, he didn't have a fever, he wasn't dying and any other thing he could come up with to get his mother to stop hovering. Watching the two, Frank felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning he saw his father heading for the door, motioning for Frank to follow him.

"What's up, Dad?" Frank asked, standing with his father in the hall outside Joe's room.

"I want you to talk to Joe about going to therapy. Right now he thinks your mother and I are the enemy. He won't listen to a word I say. He's barely speaking to me," Fenton said, sadly. "I honestly don't understand why he's so adamantly against it - especially since he's seen all the good it's done for Vanessa."

"I'll try but for some reason he's totally against it. I'm really not sure what to say to him, Dad. I can't really tell him I know how he feels because I don't. I am a little surprised at his refusal to even try it, though. He knows better than anyone how helpful it could be. He saw what it did for Vanessa. In fact, he's the one who convinced her to go. Personally, I think Vanessa's your best bet," Frank said, doubtful he'd be able to get his brother to change his mind.

"I know she could talk him into it, but I don't want to ask her; to put her in that position. She wants to be totally supportive of Joe. I don't want to be the one responsible for causing any friction between them. Joe would _really_ hate me then." Fenton sighed. "Plus I just don't want to put that kind of pressure on her. She's still recovering herself… something I tend to forget sometimes."

Seeing the look of despair on his father's face made Frank realize once again just how hard his father was taking all this. Frank had never really thought about it before, but whenever his father was down about something he more often than not turned to Joe to cheer him up and make him forget about whatever was bothering him, at least for a little while.

'_We all do that. At least, we used to,'_ Frank realized, sadly, wondering if they'd ever be able to do that again. Frank studied Fenton for a moment, and that feeling of needing to take care of his father came rushing back. Frank knew he had to at least attempt to convince Joe to give therapy a try.

"I'll talk to him, Dad. Try not to worry, everything will turn out fine," Frank replied, hoping he was right. Putting an arm around Fenton's shoulder, they turned and walked back into the room.

"Vanessa, I know you didn't eat before you left this morning. Why don't you let Laura and I buy you breakfast?" Fenton smiled at her.

"Gee, Dad, that was subtle," Joe said sarcastically. "Why don't you just come out and say it. _'Vanessa, you have to come with us so Frank can try and convince Joe to do whatever it is I just asked him to do.' _Let me take a wild guess…therapy, maybe?" Joe spat the word out, glaring at his father.

Joe and Fenton stared at each other, Joe with hurt and anger in his eyes and Fenton with sadness reflected in his.

"Go ahead," Joe said, squeezing Vanessa's hand, but not taking his eyes off his father. "Might as well get it over with. He won't let it drop until we do."

Vanessa kissed his cheek and silently followed Laura and Fenton out the door, leaving the two brothers alone.

"You really didn't have to be that hard on him," Frank said quietly. "He loves you, Joe. He's just trying to do what he thinks is best."

"Best?" Joe said disdainfully. "Best for _who_? If he really loved me he wouldn't have lied to me for the past two months about those stupid dreams. He wouldn't have let me think I was losing my mind," he finished quietly.

Frank sighed, unsure how to respond. He had had that discussion a few times with Fenton over the past few weeks.

"That's not his area of expertise, Joe. He was just doing what the doctors told him to do."

"Forget it." Joe waved his hand at Frank, then readjusted the covers on the bed to get more comfortable. "Let's just get this over with. Try and convince me I can't live without this therapy."

Frank could tell by the tone of Joe's voice this would be an uphill battle, one that he wasn't at all sure he could win. He decided to make Joe be the one who had to do the convincing, hoping that in the process, Joe would see he really could benefit from therapy.

"Try and convince me you _can_ live without it," Frank countered.

Joe sat for a moment, surprised. He had not expected Frank to use that tactic.

"I can handle it myself," Joe said simply.

"Sorry, Joe, this is me you're talking to. Those _'I can handle it on my own'_ games won't work with me," Frank said calmly, but firmly.

Joe scowled at his brother, but said nothing.

"We all know you're tough, Joe, but even you're not that tough. You'll never be able to deal with this without therapy."

"Yes, I can," Joe replied. "If they would just let me go home, I can forget about it and get on with my life. I don't want this to keep dragging on and on. I don't need therapy!"

Frank sat back and studied his younger brother carefully. There was a look in his eyes that Frank couldn't quite figure out, almost as if Joe were still deathly afraid of something.

"Joe, in therapy all you'll do is talk about what you've already remembered. They can help you accept that it happened, learn how to deal with it and then you really can get on with your life. It's not like there are going to be any more surprises. You've already remembered everything."

Joe suddenly became very subdued. Sensing he'd been correct and Joe was still afraid of something, Frank moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"What is it, Joe? What are you so afraid of?"

Joe continued looking down, picking at a thread on the hem of the sheet. Reaching forward, Frank lifted Joe's chin so his brother had to look at him.

"Talk to me, little brother. You can tell me anything, remember?" Frank said quietly.

"What if…" Joe began, then stopped, drawing in a very shaky breath.

Looking at his brother, struggling to find the words to express his fear, Frank once again prayed Josh Tilghman would live in a fiery hell for eternity. He remained silent, waiting for Joe to tell him what it was that still had him so terrified.

"What if I haven't remembered everything?" Joe said, his voice shaking. "What if I start therapy and find out Tilghman did the same thing to me that he did to all those other kids?"

Frank was stunned. This had never even occurred to him. Fenton had said that as soon as he found Joe, he had immediately rushed Joe to the emergency room to have him examined by a doctor. The doctor had assured Fenton that although Joe had been beaten, he had not been sexually molested in any way.

"What if there are things I still don't remember? What if they molested me too?" Joe's eyes were now huge and filled with terror at the thought that could have happened to him. "Frank, if that really happened I _don't want_ to remember it!" Joe sank back against the pillows as he contemplated the possibility that he too had been an unwilling participant in Tilghman's warped little world.

Frank reached out and rested a comforting hand on Joe's arm.

"Listen, Joe. When Dad found you he took you straight to the emergency room. The doctor assured him you had not been touched. Not like that."

"What if he was wrong? What if he made a mistake?"

Frank could see Joe was fixated on this possibility and wasn't willing to give it up so easily.

"That's highly unlikely. I'd think if it had happened, it would have been pretty obvious."

"But, it's possible…right?"

Frank found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn't really think it was possible the doctor who had examined Joe had made such a mistake. But he was the one who was always telling Joe nothing was impossible. If he insisted now, that there was no way Joe had been molested and the doctor just missed it, he'd be a hypocrite.

"You're right, Joe. Anything's possible. BUT I think it's about a billion to one shot that the doctor missed something." Frank looked directly into Joe's eyes. "I think you've remembered everything there is to remember. I doubt there will be anymore surprises for you."

Joe looked at him dubiously, not quite as sure as Frank was.

"Once," Joe replied, sullenly. "I'll go once."

Remembering what Joe had said after Vanessa's first therapy session, that she actually seemed worse than before she went, Frank shook his head no.

"Twice," he bargained.

"Once," Joe said adamantly.

Frank said nothing more, but held up his right index finger directly in front of Joe's face.

Joe's eyes went wide and he blanched, staring his brother. "You _wouldn't_!" he exclaimed.

Frank smiled thinly at him.

"You would. That's low. Really low," Joe said, crossing his arms over his chest and sulking.

"Hey, you promised."

"I can't believe you still remember that," Joe pouted.

"Blood brothers," Frank smiled at him. "It was your idea."

"I was only seven! I was young and stupid. What did I know? You shouldn't be allowed to hold that against me after all these years. There should be a time limit or something."

"There was a time limit - forever. Don't get mad at me just because you used yours up a few months later. And don't try and weasel out of it now, little brother."

Joe sighed. "Fine. Twice. And that's it. Then we're even."

Joe tried to be mad at his brother thinking of that summer day, sixteen years ago, but he couldn't. Joe had been playing with Chet, Biff and Tony. The three of them were bemoaning the fact that none of them had a brother as cool as Frank. Chet had then asked Joe if he would mind if the three of them became "blood brothers" with him and Frank. Joe had listened intently as Chet explained that each of them would make a small prick on their fingers and take turns rubbing their fingers together, thus becoming "blood brothers".

Joe had thought it was a great idea and didn't mind sharing his brother at all. He was insistent he and Frank also had to perform the ritual with each other even though Frank had patiently explained to him they were _already_ blood brothers. Joe wouldn't take no for an answer and even threw in an additional component just for him and Frank - they made a vow that at any point in their lives, they could ask the other to do one thing for them that maybe they wouldn't necessarily want to do otherwise. No matter what it was, they would do it, no questions asked.

Impulsive as always, Joe had used up his favor within six months. In the years that followed, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even remember what it was he had asked Frank to do. Frank, being Frank, never asked Joe to do anything… until now. It had been so long Joe had forgotten all about it and thought Frank had too. He couldn't believe Frank was invoking that long ago pledge now.

Seeing Joe was not at all happy with this turn of events, Frank tried to cheer him up.

"Remember Mom's face that day? I thought she was going to pass out," Frank laughed.

"I thought I was going to pass out, too." Joe smiled involuntarily at the memory. He had been so enthusiastic about becoming blood brothers with Frank, he had cut his finger much too deeply. Laura had to take him to the emergency room where he got five stitches to close the cut on his finger and a lecture from his father upon returning home.

"Well…" Frank said, still holding up his finger.

Looking down, Joe gazed at the very small scar on his own finger, then slowly brought it up and pressed it against Frank's.

"Blood brothers," he said quietly.

"Always," Frank replied.


	28. Chapter 28

Cheryl - believe it or not that 'blistered soul' mention was from a Def Leppard song, not my beloved Bon Jovi! :o :p

Alicia – no, there is no 'part three' but all my stories are part of a series so they do follow a time line which means the characters are continually dealing with whatever happened to them. So yeah, THIS story will end in three more chapters but it doesn't mean Joe (and Vanessa and everyone else, for that matter) won't be dealing with the aftermath in future stories - just like what would happen in real life. ;-)

Twisp – nice to see you again! Thanks for reviewing! :-)

TraSan- LOL!! I've done that myself before, wondering why a chapter didn't seem to make sense and then realizing I'd missed an entire chapter!

Helen – I love the blood brothers thing, too. It's one of my favorite scenes. :-)

Josie – I never wrote a story about the 'blood brothers' incident. When I wrote this story, six years ago, I'd never seen it anywhere before so at that time it was a totally original idea. Doesn't mean someone else hasn't taken the idea and run with it and that's what you're thinking of. :-)

Calathiel of Mirkwood – Yeah, I figured even as a kid Joe probably did everything to extremes! :p

Lina – Holy cow! Eleven chapters in one go?? Are your eyes crossed? LOL! THANK YOU for your wonderful comments! :-)

Miss Fenway, Polaris '05, MissMe113, pally – Thank you so much for reviewing. :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 28**

Callie awoke, vaguely aware something wasn't quite right. Rolling over, she saw the empty spot next to her in the bed. Looking at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was only a little after five in the morning.

"Frank?" she called out softly.

Getting no response, she climbed out of bed and made her way downstairs to find Frank sitting on the couch, one small lamp lit, staring out into space.

"Frank? Is everything okay?" she asked, concerned.

He looked up at her and she saw the overwhelming sadness on his face. Sitting next to him on the couch, she put an arm around him. He laid his head on her shoulder, remaining silent.

"Is this when I'm supposed to remind you that you _will_ find the evidence?" she asked.

"Joe agreed to try therapy and will probably be released from the hospital in a few days. His trial will resume a day or so after that. Andrew said it would only take two days for him to present the defense. He might be able to stall for one more day - maybe. By then Judge O'Donnell will insist it go to the jury for a verdict." Frank squeezed his eyes shut, tightly. "Callie, I've looked everywhere I can think of. I've spoken to everyone who might have been able to help. I haven't found one shred of evidence to prove Joe is innocent. I _know_ that journal is out there somewhere, not to mention a file filled with notes on Joe. God, why can't I find it."

Callie held him a little tighter when she saw a tear roll down his cheek.

"I promised him, Cal. I promised I'd find something to prove he didn't kill Taylor. I let him down." Frank looked at Callie. "If he goes to prison, he'll die there. He won't even last one night before they kill him. And it will be all my fault." Leaning forward, he put his head in his hands and cried. "I'm so sorry, Joe," he whispered.

Callie sat next to him, gently rubbing his back, offering comfort through her touch. She sat with him, silently, until he finally sat up.

"How can I face him? How can I face my parents? They were counting on me. I was so sure I would find something. How could I have been so wrong?" he asked, helplessly.

"Was that last one a rhetorical question?" Callie asked.

"Not necessarily."

"Maybe if you talk about everything you've done so far, step by step, you might see something you didn't see before," Callie suggested.

She knew how logical and methodical Frank was, but he had been consumed with worry about Joe, frantically trying to find something to help him, and traveling almost non-stop. It would have been easy for him to miss something that might have jumped out at him had he been searching for evidence to clear anyone other than his own brother.

"It can't hurt." Frank shrugged his shoulders, willing to try anything at this point.

"Why don't you start with the most recent things you've done and work backwards."

"Angela Taylor," Frank said matter-of-factly. "I spent the whole day talking with her. I thought she might have some idea where Chris would keep things that were important to him. You know, papers, documents, that kind of thing."

"What did she say?"

"She said she didn't know. Once she and her husband found that journal he removed everything that was important to him from the house. And the last few years he lived with her, he thought she was the enemy." Frank shook his head. "That guy really was crazy. He thought his father was a god. Wanted to be just like him. She said it was scary because they really were so much alike."

"Did you ask her about Tilghman at all?"

"Briefly, when she said Taylor tried to emulate his father. She was really uncomfortable talking about him though and dropped it pretty quickly," Frank's voice trailed off and he stared off into the distance.

Callie smiled to herself, recognizing the look on his face. "As Joe would say, I can practically see the wheels spinning in there." She lightly tapped the side of his head.

Frank suddenly grabbed her and kissed her. "Thank you!" he kissed her again. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"Not that I'm not enjoying this," she laughed, "but what did I do to deserve it?"

"Tilghman may be dead, but he can still talk to me," Frank said, secretively.

"You can talk to the dead now? And here I thought I knew all your hidden talents," she teased.

"Angela Taylor didn't know where Tilghman kept his files, but the police found them somewhere. They were a huge part of the case against him. He kept such detailed records he practically convicted himself," Frank explained excitedly. "If I can get a look at the evidence the police had on him it should say where they found everything."

"And if Taylor wanted to be so much like his father…" Callie caught on to Frank's train of thought.

"Maybe he kept his records in the same place his father did!" Frank reached for the phone.

"Uh, honey, it's only five-thirty in the morning. Who are you calling?" Callie asked.

"Dad. I need to start looking through those records as soon as possible. I need him to clear the way for me," Frank replied. "He won't mind me waking him up for this."

oooOOOooo

Frank followed the rotund officer into the dank storage room and watched as he tried to match the file number on the paper in his hand to one of the many cards on the shelves. They went up and down several rows and took a few wrong turns before the officer finally stopped.

"Here ya go," he said, congenially.

"All of these?" Frank said, staring up in amazement, at the seemingly endless pile of boxes

"Yup. It was a pretty big case as I recall." The officer scratched his head, eyeing Frank. "Hey, didn't your Dad help bring Tilghman down?"

"Yes," Frank replied becoming slightly uneasy.

"In fact he pretty much broke that case wide open, single-handedly..." The officer continued gazing at Frank, trying to recall the details. Suddenly his eyes lit up. "That's right! One of his boys was kidnapped…"

"Thanks for your help," Frank cut him off. "I can take it from here."

"Uh-huh," the man mumbled, continuing to look at Frank as he walked away.

"Just my luck," Frank muttered disgustedly as he began pulling boxes off the shelves. "I should have packed a lunch."

He had hoped the Tilghman case had already been entered into the Bayport PD's evidence database. A simple five-minute search would have given him exactly what he was looking for. However budget cuts had drastically reduced the number of people available for data entry. As a result, evidence for recent arrests and unsolved, open cases received top priority. With Tilghman's case closed and him dead, his information might never make it into the database.

Frank used one of the boxes as a makeshift seat and methodically began pulling out files, folders, envelopes and plastic bags, carefully scrutinizing everything. Opening a large manila envelope he gasped and felt slightly queasy as the found himself staring at some very graphic 8 x 10 photos. He felt the now familiar rush of hatred for Tilghman, knowing his brother had seen similar things and worse, first hand.

Frank became so engrossed in carefully sorting through the boxes he hadn't realized how much time had passed until his stomach reminded him how long it had been since he'd eaten breakfast. He was about to take a break to get something to eat when he heard his name echoing down the rows of shelving.

"Frank? Where are you?" a familiar voice called out.

"Back here, Con," Frank replied.

A moment later Con Riley's head popped up at the end of the aisle Frank was sitting in. He gave a low whistle taking in all the boxes surrounding Frank.

"Wow. I sure don't envy you," Con said making his way through the maze of boxes and taking a seat on one of them. "Find anything useful?"

"Not yet," Frank replied, a little frustrated. "On the bright side, I still have about twenty more boxes to look through," he said sarcastically.

"Keep digging. It's gotta be in there somewhere."

"Gee, thanks. So what brings you here? Just come down to watch and see how many paper cuts I can amass in one day?"

"I thought you might want to take a break; grab some lunch."

"You read my mind," Frank smiled.

Con stood and offered a hand, pulling Frank to his feet. Frank's muscles immediately protested having been in the same, cramped position for so many hours. He stretched a moment and then followed Con out of the windowless room.

oooOOOooo

"So how's Joe doing?" Con asked, taking a sip of the iced tea the waitress had set down in front of him.

Frank shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I guess."

Con shook his head. "You know I've heard that expression all my life and I still don't have a clue what it means."

"Me neither," Frank smiled ruefully.

"He's allowed to have visitors, right?"

"Technically, yes," Frank replied hesitating slightly. "But he really doesn't want any. Half the time I don't think he wants to see anyone but Vanessa. He's pretty depressed," Frank finished sadly.

Con pulled an envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table to Frank.

"Maybe this will cheer him up a little bit," Con said, unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile.

"What is it?" Frank asked warily.

"A report," Con replied simply, sitting back to watch the expression on Frank's face. Just as Con knew it would, Frank's face registered first deep concentration, then recognition, shock, surprise and finally elation.

"Who ordered this?" Frank asked excitedly.

"I did."

"Does Collig know?"

"It's my case. I can order whatever reports I feel are necessary." He smiled conspiratorially.

"But aren't you supposed to be trying to get Joe convicted?"

"I'm supposed to be trying to get the _truth_. And I'm just being thorough."

Frank's eyes shone with gratitude. "Con, I don't know what to say. This could be enough to clear Joe all by itself."

"Maybe. But keep digging. There's no such thing as too much evidence."

Frank carefully refolded the paper, put it back in the envelope and placed it in his pocket.

"I'm going to see Joe later today. His first therapy session is this afternoon and I know it's going to be really rough on him. You have no idea how much this will help."

"Glad to do it, Frank. And tell him I said hello."

The two friends spent the rest of the meal chatting about anything other than Joe's case and Frank returned to the evidence storage room much more relaxed and eager to continue his search. Several hours later Frank's concentration was broken by the ringing of his cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's me," Callie said sounding subdued.

"Hi, hon," Frank replied, concerned by the tone of her voice.

"Vanessa just called me in tears. I'm on my way to the hospital now. Apparently Joe's first therapy session didn't go quite as well as everyone had hoped."

"What happened?" Frank asked, slightly alarmed.

"He's refused to see anyone ever since he got back to his room. He's shutting everyone out. Poor Vanessa is beside herself so I'm going to see if I can calm her down a little. When will you be able to get there?"

"I'll leave as soon as I finish looking through this file. I should be there in about an hour," Frank replied, realizing there was one stop he wanted to make before heading to the hospital.

"Okay, I'll see you then. Love you."

"Love you too, Babe. Bye."

Putting his cell phone away, Frank shook his head sadly. "Come on Joe, why won't you let us help you?" Frank said out loud, looking through the last few pieces of paper in the file he was holding. His eyes suddenly locked on a faded, yellow receipt. He picked it up to get a better look and then turned his eyes towards the ceiling.

"Thank you!" he said, feeling as if he had just won the lottery.

Rushing out of the room, he made a copy of the receipt then quickly returned and carefully put all the boxes back in their original place on the shelves. He put the copy of the receipt in the envelope Con had given him and rushed out of the storage room, eager to see his brother.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: I had to laugh out loud as I don't think I've EVER seen so many reviews say almost the exact same thing: "What was in the report?? What did he find??" LOL!! Thank you so much for taking the time to review – you guys are awesome. :-)

Oh and for whomever asked, there are three chapters left including this one.

Anonymous reviewer – while I do really like Con Riley (and Chief Collig, too as well as several other canon characters), to me they are just _recurring_ characters. Sort of like 'guest stars'. I love Frank and Joe and they are the ones I love to write (and read!) about. To me, any extraneous characters who aren't vital to moving the plot along just take time away from the brothers. Just my opinion, of course. ;-) But if YOU write a story about Con, I'll definitely check it out! :D

**Innocent**

**Chapter 29**

Arriving at Joe and Vanessa's apartment, Frank used the spare key his brother had given him to let himself in. He quickly searched the rooms and found what he was looking for, chiding himself for not thinking of it sooner. Dropping it in a bag, he made his way to the hospital as fast as he could.

Getting off the elevator, he hurried to the waiting area where he found his parents, Vanessa and Callie looking grim. Upon seeing him, Vanessa jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, crying. Looking around he caught his father's eye. His father simply shook his head no, appearing more dejected than Frank could ever recall. Fenton was seated next to Laura who was crying quietly. Callie was trying to comfort her but not appearing to have much success.

"Frank, you have to get through to him." He heard Vanessa's muffled voice. "He's refusing to see anyone now." She lifted her head to look at him. "Even me," she said quietly. A few more tears escaped and Frank reached out to wipe them away.

The tortured look in her eyes was exactly the same as the one he had seen in Joe's eyes the night Vanessa had been raped. He knew she was feeling the same sense of helplessness Joe had felt that night. The person she loved more than anything in the world was going through hell and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"He's gotten worse, Frank. He won't even let any of us in the room now. I know he wasn't talking much before, but at least I could be with him. Now..." She leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes filling with tears again.

Frank put his arms around her and they held each other tightly. When Vanessa had first started dating Joe, Frank thought she was just one more in a string of many and Joe would get bored with her like he had all the others. But she turned out to be 'the one' and when Frank realized how much she loved his brother, no one was more thrilled than he was.

"I'll talk to him, Van. Everything will work out. Don't worry." He kissed her on the cheek and released her. As he turned to walk away, she grabbed his hand.

"Please tell him how much I love him. Make sure he knows," her voice quivered slightly.

"He already knows, but I'll remind him."

Frank walked out into the hall turning towards his brother's room and was stopped by his father.

"He doesn't want to see anybody, Frank," his father said, sounding totally defeated. "He was adamant about that."

"He'll see me," Frank replied evenly. "Whether he wants to or not. I'm not giving up my kid brother without a fight."

Frank continued down the hall and stopped outside his brother's room. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and walked in letting it shut behind him. Joe was curled up on the bed, his back to the door. He didn't move or speak or acknowledge that anyone even entered the room even though Frank was sure he was awake.

"Hey, bro," he said softly.

When Joe didn't respond he walked around to the other side of the bed confirming what he knew. Joe was awake, his blue eyes wide open, staring at the wall.

"What, you're not talking to me today?" He didn't care how depressed Joe was, Frank was sure if he pushed the right buttons, his brother would get fed up with him and come back with some angry, sarcastic remark. "Well, that's pretty rude. I made a special trip here just to see you and you can't even acknowledge that I'm here?"

"Shut up," Joe said in a flat, monotone voice.

Frank smiled to himself. "Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for but-"

"Shut up and get out." Joe's voice was completely devoid of emotion.

"No," Frank challenged him.

Joe lifted his head slightly to glare at his brother. "I told them I didn't want to see anybody. That includes you. Didn't you get the message?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"So, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." Frank looked him in the eye. "And _no one_ is going to tell me I can't see my little brother. Not even you."

Joe let out a few choice words under his breath and dropped his head back down on the pillow.

'_Yes! Anger!' _Frank thought. _'We're making progress!'_

He pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down directly in Joe's line of sight. Leaning forward, he put his elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand so Joe had no choice but to look him in the eye or move. _'Okay, no more fooling around.'_

"So I take it the first therapy session didn't go quite the way you wanted it to," Frank said quietly.

Joe closed his eyes and Frank could see his lower lip start to quiver. He reached up and rubbed Joe's back as he used to do when they were kids and Joe was upset.

"Why can't they just give me some kind of drug and make it all disappear?" Joe whispered.

"I wish they could, bro. I wish _I_ could make it disappear for you, but I can't."

"I don't _want_ to talk about it, Frank. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to remember it. I don't want to tell some shrink how I feel about it." Joe's voice broke and so did Frank's heart. "I don't want to feel _anything_. Why couldn't it just stay buried where it was?"

"It couldn't stay there forever, Joe. It would have eaten you up eventually. But now that it's out you can learn how to deal with it and move past it."

"_How_?!" Joe cried out. "How am I supposed to move past it when I can't get it out of my head? It's all I think about, twenty-four hours a day! It doesn't matter if I'm awake or asleep, I can't get those images out of my mind! They're everywhere I look. Those kids…little children…being forced to…" Joe started to shake. A look of pure terror flashed in his eyes. One hand flew to his mouth and he bolted from the bed into the bathroom where Frank could hear him throwing up.

A few moments later Joe came out of the bathroom. He crawled back onto the bed and lay down on his stomach, staring at his brother with a look that needed no explanation. Immediately, Frank got up and sat on the bed. He put a comforting hand on Joe's back, just as he always did after those horrible childhood nightmares. Frank suddenly wondered about all those times Joe had come to him in the middle of the night, crying hysterically, unable to remember why. Had he been dreaming, even then, of the three days he had spent at the hands of Josh Tilghman?

"Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not listening."

"Not listening to what?"

"Not listening when I said I didn't want to see anybody."

"That's what a big brother does best," Frank replied. "He doesn't pay any attention to what his little brother wants."

They were silent for a moment and then Joe spoke again in a shaking barely audible whisper. "God, Frank, everything I saw…everything I watched them do…if Dad hadn't found me when he did I would have had to let them do the same things to me."

Frank could feel his brother trembling at the memory.

"But he did find you in time, thank God. And you weren't there because you wanted to be. They forced you to watch, Joe. It wasn't like you had a choice." Frank tried to keep the anger out of his voice, not wanting Joe to think it was directed at him.

"Yes, I did," Joe whispered. "I wouldn't watch at first. I refused. It made them so mad."

Frank shook his head in amazement. Even at six years old, Joe could be incredibly stubborn.

"They hit me." Once again, Joe unconsciously put a hand to his cheek, feeling that first slap as if it had just happened. "I took it for as long as I could. Even when they used the belt."

Frank was horrified. His father hadn't told him Joe had been beaten that badly.

"It's okay, Joe. It's okay." Frank said, gently rubbing his back.

"If I had just been a little stronger…" Joe insisted. "I wouldn't even have to be here."

"Enough, Joe! You were only six years old! How could you possibly have stood up to them?!" Frank shifted position to look into his brother's eyes. _'Oh, my God… He blames himself! That's what this is all about! He's convinced himself he's responsible for what he saw. He thinks he could have prevented it if he just fought a little harder.'_

"If I just tried a little harder. If I'd been a little bit stronger."

Frank understood his brother like no one else and when Joe decided to take responsibility for something, justified or not, it was virtually impossible to change his mind. But unless Joe accepted that he was an innocent victim, those three days would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Joe, you were forced to do something against your will. Just like Vanessa was forced to do something against her will. So how come she was an innocent victim and you were a willing participant?" Frank said, frustrated. "You were a _little boy_, Joe. _An innocent little boy_. Why can't you see that?" he finished quietly.

Frank watched as several conflicting emotions passed over Joe's face.

"It wasn't my fault," Joe whispered.

"No, it wasn't."

"But if I kept resisting…"

"They probably would have beaten you to death. And I would have lost my brother."

Frank swallowed hard, thankful Joe had to "grow into" the amount of stubbornness he had now; thankful he had the time to grow into it. Frank hadn't realized until that very moment if Joe _hadn't_ cooperated with Tilghman all those years ago, he very well would have ended up dead. It took a few moments for Frank to compose himself. "Vanessa asked me to give you a message," he said.

"She did? What is it?"

"She said to tell you she loves you." Frank glanced down and saw his brother smile. "I told her you already knew that, but I would remind you."

"She loves me now." The smile started to falter. "But will she still feel that way when this is all over? If not for me she never would have been…"

"Don't even go there, little brother," Frank cut him off. "As far as I know, she's still planning a wedding for next year. And I'm pretty sure she expects you to be there."

Standing up, Frank pulled the envelope Con had given him from his pocket and gave it to Joe.

"What is it?" Joe asked suspiciously, sitting up.

"Open it," Frank said, feeling the same enjoyment he was sure Con felt when he had given the envelope to Frank.

Joe opened it and pulled out the two slips of paper inside. He let the copy of the receipt flutter onto the bed while he unfolded the other paper. Frank watched as Joe's eyes grew wide and then he looked at Frank in shock. "It's a ballistics report on Chris Taylor," Joe said, as if Frank didn't already know. Joe looked back down at the paper, fearing he had read it wrong the first time. "Taylor had gunpowder residue on his hands." Joe looked up at his brother again. "A lot of it!"

"Uh-huh," Frank smiled. "Which just confirms everything you said was true. He couldn't have had that much gunpowder on his hands unless he had been holding a gun when it was fired. Look down at the bottom," Frank said pointing. "Con specifically asked if that much residue would have been left even if his hands were on top of yours when the gun was fired. And the answer is yes."

Frank breathed a sigh of relief when Joe smiled.

"They'll have to believe I'm innocent now."

"And that's not all." Frank picked up the copy of the receipt that was lying on the bed. "Look at this. I found it when I was looking through the evidence against Tilghman." Frank winced slightly as Joe's smile disappeared.

"_Bayport Storage_," Joe read. "So? I don't get it."

"When I spoke with Angela Taylor she was convinced her son would have kept very detailed records of everything he had done and planned to do to get back at you. I have a hunch Taylor wanted to be so much like his father that he went so far as to keep his records and things in the same place his father did. Bayport Storage. Dad should be able to pull some strings and get a search warrant for his storage unit."

"If he has one," Joe said, guardedly.

"Oh, I'm sure he has one. I think fate is finally starting to smile on you again."

Just then there was a knock on the door and a nurse came in. She handed Joe a small cup containing a pill and poured him a cup of water.

"I'm sorry but visiting hours are over in five minutes," she said, watching to make sure Joe took the medication. "You'll have to leave then," she said to Frank as she backed out the door.

Frank smiled at his brother. "I'll be back tomorrow. Try and get some sleep, okay?"

Immediately he saw the apprehension in Joe's eyes at the thought of what sleep might bring.

"Since I can't stay the night," Frank said. "I brought my stand in."

He reached down into the bag on the floor and pulled out Bear. Joe's face lit up just as Frank had hoped. He handed the pathetic, one-eyed bear to his brother.

"Ya know, he really does have magical powers. I think that little boy will leave you alone tonight." Frank watched as Joe settled back on to the bed.

"Will you stay?" Joe asked. "Just for a few minutes?"

"Sure," Frank replied settling himself back into the chair.

The medication worked quickly and Joe was asleep within minutes. Standing up to leave, Frank looked down at his brother.

"Sweet dreams, Joe." He hesitated a second, then looked at Bear. Leaning down next to the beat up stuffed animal, he whispered, "Take care of my brother."

He walked to the door and after a final glance at his brother, left the room. As he walked to the waiting area, he hoped somehow Chris Taylor would know that his plan to destroy Joe and turn his family against him was a total failure. In fact, thanks to Chris Taylor and his single-minded need for revenge, the Hardy family was now closer and stronger than ever.

They still had one hurdle left, but Frank was more confident than ever that Joe would be found not guilty of murdering Chris Taylor. He quickened his pace, eager to tell his father about the ballistics report and his theory on the storage unit. If he were right, by this time tomorrow he would have more than enough proof to keep his brother out of prison.

A/N: Okay so I'm not positive about the gunpowder residue thing with regard to the placement of hands on the gun, so if it really isn't possible… pretend! We're in Hardy-land and I'm taking liberties! :p


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: See that light down there? It's the end of the tunnel; we're just about done. Only one more chapter to go after this one. Enjoy!

And as always, THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed. See me smiling?? :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 30**

Frank stood next to his father in the small, cramped office, arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping in a steady rhythm against the floor. His normally endless supply of patience was non-existent this morning. When he left the hospital the previous evening, he'd gone straight to Phil Cohen's house. When Frank explained what he needed, Phil was more than happy to hack into the customer database of Bayport Storage. It had taken Phil less than a minute to find the information Frank needed. Smiling to himself, Frank recalled the feeling of elation he'd had when he first looked at the computer screen and only wished Joe had been able to share that moment with him. Not only did Chris Taylor rent a storage unit at Bayport Storage, Frank noted with disgust, it was the exact same one Josh Tilghman had used seventeen years ago. Frank was certain that was not simply a coincidence.

From Phil's house, Frank had gone straight to his parent's house quickly filling his father in on his discovery. He watched in awe as Fenton Hardy called in favor after favor until he had a guarantee that a search warrant would be delivered to the manager of Bayport Storage at eight o'clock the following morning. Frank was reminded of just how many people really cared about Joe when his father told him that none other than Ezra Collig had volunteered to serve the warrant and assist in the search.

Now that he was here, Frank wanted to begin searching immediately. He knew in his heart that Taylor's storage unit would be a virtual goldmine. He was certain that once they had completed their search, no one would believe, even for a second, that Joe had murdered Chris Taylor.

Frank sighed heavily, receiving a stern look from his father in return. The manager of the storage facility had been looking over the search warrant for the past ten minutes as if he wanted to commit it to memory.

"It's a standard search warrant, Mr. Gershon," Chief Collig said, hoping to prompt the man into turning over the key to the storage unit. When the man didn't make any move to get up, Collig continued. "We're not asking for your permission to search the unit, sir. We already have that. Unless you give us the key to the unit immediately, I'll have no choice but to place you under arrest for obstruction of justice."

"I just want to make sure everything is in order here. He paid in advance for three months storage and he still has a month to go. Don't want any customers filing a lawsuit against me for invasion of privacy or anything."

"Mr. Gershon, Chris Taylor is dead. I doubt he'll be suing you anytime soon," Con Riley said dryly.

Frank rolled his eyes wondering if the man lived in a cave. Chris Taylor's death, the circumstances surrounding it and Joe's murder trial had been the biggest news in Bayport for the past month. Frank didn't think there was anyone in town that hadn't at least heard about it in passing.

Reaching behind him, Gershon took a key off the pegboard on the wall and passed it to Con. "Last row of storage units. Last one on the left," he said simply, making no move to escort the little search party to the correct storage unit.

"Thank you," Con replied and turned, leading Collig, Frank and Fenton out of the office.

'_Please, don't let this be a wild goose chase,'_ Frank thought a few minutes later as he stood watching Con insert the key into the lock of Chris Taylor's storage unit. As the door opened, Frank stared, both elated and horrified. File cabinets lined all three walls next to neatly stacked and meticulously labeled cardboard storage boxes.

Following Con, the Chief and his father into the storage unit, Frank was chilled to the bone. Every cabinet and box was labeled with Joe's name, a date and a description of what was contained inside. Suddenly faced with the reality that Taylor had been watching – stalking – Joe for so many years, Frank felt as if he had somehow failed his younger brother.

'_It's my job to watch out for Joe. To protect him. I can't believe I never noticed Taylor anywhere! How could he have gathered so much information on Joe without either one of us seeing him even once?' _Frank had never felt as inadequate as he did right then._ 'I'm so sorry, Joe.' _

"I guess we should each take a wall and start digging," Con said, somewhat dazed himself.

Frank walked to the very back of the storage unit and pulled open the top drawer of the first file cabinet. His father took the wall to his right, while Con started opening boxes stacked along the wall to his left and Chief Collig stayed at the front. Frank made a mental note to thank the Chief before the day was out. There was no need for him to be there, however his presence was a comfort to Frank. With both the chief of police and the detective in charge of the investigation assisting in the search, no one would even think of questioning whether Frank or Fenton had tampered with any evidence they might find.

The four men worked in silence, methodically checking every file, every piece of paper, every photograph. At one point Frank heard his father gasp.

"What is it, Dad?" Frank asked, not really sure he wanted to know.

Eyes shining presumably from tears he was trying to conceal, Fenton held up a photo of a six-year-old Joe standing next to Josh Tilghman, looking absolutely terrified.

"How did Taylor get that?" Con asked, shocked.

Frank simply stared, unable to believe his eyes. Fenton shrugged his shoulders, having no words to describe the torrent of emotions flooding through him, having suddenly come face to face with his worst nightmare once again.

Con reached out and took the photograph from Fenton who seemed glad to let it go. "I'm sure Andrew can use this somehow," Con said quietly as the group returned to their draining task.

A few times Frank found he was so overwhelmed he had to step outside, needing to escape the hatred that seemed to permeate every square inch of the small, enclosed space. It was late afternoon when Frank pulled out a box containing what looked like journals. Each one had two dates on the cover indicating the day it was started and the day the last entry was made, except for one. The one he now held in his hands had only one date, and a very recent date at that, indicating this was the most recent journal and had not been filled. With shaking hands, Frank opened the journal and began to read…

_**"12/18/01**_

_**Dear Dad,**_

_**My plans are almost complete. As always, I will practice until I am confident in my ability to perform flawlessly when I go after our intended targets. Very soon, Dad, our revenge will be complete and I will be joining you.**_

_**Your loving son, Chris"**_

'_Practice?'_ Frank was filled with revulsion as the realization hit him. _'He raped six women for practice.'_

Skipping a few pages, Frank read another entry and his heart caught in his throat.

_**"12/26/01**_

_**Dear Dad,**_

_**I saw him yesterday, celebrating Christmas with his family…his fiancé…his FATHER! I can barely remember the last Christmas I spent with you, Dad, yet he gets to spend every holiday with his father. He spends every **__**day**__** with his father working side by side, just like we should be doing. It's not fair, Dad. But he will pay. He will pay for taking you away from me. For destroying our bond. For destroying our family. By the time I have finished with him, his father won't be able to stand the sight of him.**_

_**I miss you, Dad. I miss you.**_

_**Your loving son, Chris"**_

Frank wanted to stop right there but he hadn't found the entry he was looking for, the one he so desperately needed. With a heavy heart, he continued reading…

_**"1/1/02**_

_**Happy New Year, Dad**_

_**He rang in the New Year with his brother, his sister-in-law and his beloved fiancé. The fiancé who will be mine very soon. They looked so happy last night, so hopelessly in love. It won't last. I will destroy it. I will destroy everything that is precious to him, everything he loves.**_

_**Very soon his father, his brother, his fiancé, everyone who loves him now, will look at him with nothing but contempt, disgust and hatred. He will pay.**_

_**Your loving son, Chris"**_

Reading further Frank came upon the entry dated the day after Vanessa had been raped and felt his stomach rebel as he skimmed the words.

'_You don't have to read every entry.'_ Frank told himself quickly looking away from the journal in his hands. _'Stop torturing yourself. Just find the one you need.'_

Flipping to the last entry in the journal, dated the day Chris Taylor died, he began to read…

_**"Dear Dad,**_

_**I've had to make a few adjustments. Missing out on his mother last week put me behind schedule but my plan will still succeed. It has already yielded results beyond what I'd hoped for. His fiancé is so traumatized she refuses to leave their apartment. If only she knew I haven't finished with her yet. But I'm getting ahead of myself.**_

_**Tonight, I will have his mother. When his father receives the note I will send later this evening, he will want to kill his precious son with his bare hands. The same son he should have left with you so long ago. Next week, his sister-in-law. Once she is found, the brother he worships will turn on him with rage and fury.**_

_**And the following week, the culmination of all my planning. His fiancé is traumatized now, but when I finish with her – forcing him to watch every second – she will be beyond help. Given his volatile temper, I'm sure it won't take much to goad him into killing me. However, should he somehow remain in control rest assured I will still achieve my goal.**_

_**Should he refuse to pull the trigger, preferring to see me incarcerated, I will do it myself. Suicide is not the sin so many believe it to be. It can't be if it will bring me back to you, Dad. Regardless of who pulls the trigger, he will be left to take the blame. Once he is convicted of my 'murder', he will spend the rest of his life in prison. His father may have rescued him all those years ago, but there will be no one who wants to rescue him now. Joe Hardy will finally get what you had intended for him all along, with no one to save him.**_

_**Then my revenge will be complete and I will join you, Dad. Soon, Dad, very soon.**_

_**Your loving son, Chris"**_

Closing the journal, unable to look at it anymore. _'Mom? Callie? Oh, God, poor Vanessa.'_

"Dad," Frank said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I found it."

oooOOOooo

Frank arrived at the Campbell Center early in the evening. There were still several boxes and file cabinets to be searched but the truth of the matter was, Frank could no longer stomach it. He'd found the journal Angela Taylor had told him about and knew that was more than enough to guarantee a not guilty verdict for Joe. The journal entries were bad, though, and Frank prayed it wouldn't be necessary for any of them to be read aloud in open court. He felt sick to his stomach as he recalled what horrors Taylor still had planned for his family and thanked God he never got the chance to carry them out.

As the day had worn on, Frank found himself becoming depressed at the sheer volume of information Chris Taylor had amassed on Joe. By now, they all knew how much Taylor had hated Joe, but none of them were prepared for the depth or venom of the hatred this man really had, or the lengths he was willing to go to, to extract the revenge he so desperately wanted.

Frank had seen his father wiping at his eyes more than once and he himself was stunned that anyone could hate his brother to such a degree. In fact, he couldn't fathom how anyone could hate his good-hearted, fun-loving brother at all. Not for the first time, Frank shook his head and wondered how life could be so unfair. Chris Taylor was dead, with no more cares or worries while his victims were left behind to try to cope with the mess he had made of their lives. Why were the victims the ones who always seemed to end up paying the price?

Arriving at his brother's room, Frank pushed the door open and very quietly stepped inside just in case Joe was sleeping. Joe seemed to be doing a lot of that lately – sleeping the day away. Initially, Frank had been worried about it as that was so unlike his brother who seemed to be in constant motion, and questioned Dr. Fitzwater about it. The doctor had told him there was no need to be concerned as people who were severely depressed, as Joe was, quite often slept a good deal more than the average person.

While Frank was relieved to hear Joe's new sleeping habits were "normal" given the circumstances, he was also incensed. Frank was bitterly angry that his brother who had always been so happy and carefree couldn't even seem to find one reason to smile anymore. Joe had felt incredible guilt over Iola's death, but up until Vanessa had been raped, Frank would have bet his life that Joe didn't even know what depression felt like. Now it controlled his every waking moment. Frank suddenly understood why his brother would prefer to sleep most of the time than be faced with the thoughts that must be haunting him every minute of the day.

Standing just inside the room, Frank looked at Joe and Vanessa curled up in each other's arms. At first, he thought they were sleeping until he saw Joe gently rub Vanessa's arm bringing an almost imperceptible smile to her lips. They were apparently each lost in their own thoughts, yet found comfort in the other's touch.

"Hey," Frank said, quietly.

Immediately, Joe opened his eyes and looked at Frank. "Hey."

Hearing Frank's voice, Vanessa opened her eyes and pushed herself up to a sitting position. "Hi, Frank," she smiled at him.

"Hi, Van. So how are you guys doing?" Frank asked pulling up a chair.

"Us? We're great," Joe said, unsmiling, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Glancing from Joe to Frank, Vanessa shrugged almost apologetically.

"So did you find anything?" Joe asked, finally sitting up. He knew about the storage unit and the search warrant and had feared when they opened it up, it would be empty. The simple fact that it had taken Frank all day to finally make an appearance in his room offered Joe some hope that there might actually be something in the storage unit that could be used in his favor.

"Actually, yes," Frank began, thrilled to be able to give Joe some good news for once. "We found Taylor's journal and…" Frank immediately clamped his mouth shut as Joe shot him a sharp look.

At the mention of Taylor's name, Vanessa had visibly tensed and now had a faraway look in her eyes. Joe spoke to her in a low, soothing voice.

"I'm right here, Van. Frank is here, too. You're completely safe with us." Joe stopped and waited, trying to gauge how much Vanessa had heard and digested. When he saw her blink a few times, he offered her his hand. "It's okay, Babe. You're safe."

Taking Joe's hand and holding it tightly, Vanessa let out a shaky breath.

"Sorry," she whispered, making a quick swipe at her eyes. "What were you saying?" she asked Frank.

Stunned, Frank didn't quite know how to respond. He hadn't really thought much about what went on when Joe and Vanessa were alone. She had always seemed so strong and together whenever Frank had seen her lately, he didn't realize she probably let out all her fears when she was alone with Joe. And knowing his brother, Frank was absolutely certain Joe would try to shoulder Vanessa's demons as well as his own. Sitting there staring at his younger brother, Frank wondered how Joe had been able to hold it together as long as he did before finally breaking down.

Frank mentally kicked himself as he understood just the mention of Taylor's name had almost resulted in a terrifying flashback for Vanessa. Until that moment, he hadn't truly grasped how agonizing it had to be for her to sit in court and hear Taylor's name mentioned over and over again, day after day. His admiration for her poise and inner strength grew immeasurably.

Frantically trying to think of a way to tell Joe about what they had found without further upsetting Vanessa, Frank was saved when the door slowly opened and he heard Callie's voice.

"Knock, knock," she said, poking her head in the room. "Oh, good, all my favorite people are here." Callie quickly walked over to Frank and kissed him, settling into his warm embrace contentedly. She knew it was necessary for him to travel all over the country the past few weeks and understood completely, but she had missed him terribly and was so glad he was now home for good.

"How are you feeling, Joe?" Callie asked.

Joe shrugged wordlessly in response then turned to Vanessa. "Would you mind leaving me and Frank alone for a few minutes? I need to talk to him."

"Sure," Vanessa replied quietly. Kissing Joe, she got up and left the room, followed by a very puzzled Callie.

"Okay," Joe looked at his older brother. "What did you find."

"The journal Angela Taylor told me about," Frank began a bit hesitantly. He knew Joe would want to see the journal, which is why he gave it to his father. With Joe's current mental state, Frank felt he didn't need to know about what Chris Taylor had really been planning to do.

"And…" Joe said, slightly annoyed when Frank didn't elaborate.

"And what?"

"What did it say? Anything that can help me? Did you bring it with you?" Joe fired off the questions in quick succession.

"Dad has it. He's taking it to Andrew tonight so he can enter it as evidence in your defense as soon as possible."

"Why didn't you bring it?" Joe asked angrily. "I want to see it! I want to know what he said. About me. About what else he was going to do."

"It's really…. you don't need…" Frank stumbled over the words not wanting his brother to ever know what Taylor had intended. He may not have been able to shield Joe from Taylor up to this point, but had every intention of protecting his younger brother now. Frank was determined Joe would never find out what was written in that journal.

"What? I have a right to know what he said about me, don't I?"

"All you need to know is that he said he wanted to die. He wanted to be reunited with his father and if he couldn't bait you into killing him, he would commit suicide and frame you for his murder."

Joe's eyes grew wide. "He wrote that? In the journal?"

"Yes. It's right there in black and white. In his handwriting. There's no way a jury can say you're guilty now," Frank said with relief. "Looks like Taylor really was like his father. Dad said Tilghman kept such good records he just about convicted himself and his son is following right in his footsteps."

"So, I really won't be going to prison?" Joe asked, almost afraid to believe it, even for a second. Normally upbeat and optimistic, Joe had been unable find anything positive in this situation since the night he had been arrested and charged with murder.

"I don't see how, Joe. If you put the journal together with the ballistics report and all the character witnesses Andrew plans to call, how could anyone not have at least a reasonable doubt? I think your problems are finally starting to disappear," Frank said, trying to cheer up his brother.

"Not all of them," Joe replied quietly. Seeing the look of sorrow appear on Frank's face, he immediately felt guilty. "Frank, I'm sorry. You promised you'd find something to clear me and you kept your word. Just like you always do." Joe managed a smile. "Always bailing me out. I can thank you every day for the rest of my life and it will never be enough but…"

"It's okay. I understand," Frank said, although that wasn't the complete truth. He knew that no matter how hard he tried he would never really understand what Joe was going through. All he could do was offer his brother the love and support he would need to cope with the aftermath of everything that had happened.

"Thanks." They sat quietly for a few moments before Joe spoke again. "I need to know something."

"What?"

"Promise you'll tell me the truth."

'_I HATE it when he does that!'_ Frank thought. The only time Joe ever made him promise to tell the truth is when Joe was about to ask a question he knew Frank would never want to answer. "I will if I can."

"If you can?" Joe said, surprised.

"We both know this is going to be a question I really don't want to answer so I'm not going to make any promises I can't keep," Frank replied crossing his arms over his chest. "So go ahead and ask, but I may not answer."

"Was he really planning to go after Mom?" Joe asked quietly.

Frank could see the unbearable guilt wash over his brother. _'Mom, Callie…Vanessa, __again__…forcing you to watch…'_ In his mind, Frank saw the disgusting plans Taylor had written about in his journal and knew he couldn't give Joe a straight answer.

"Do you really need to know the details, Joe? Can't you just trust me on this? There is more than enough evidence in that journal alone to convince even the biggest idiot that you did _not_ kill Taylor. Can't we just leave it at that?"

"That bad?" Joe asked in a haunted voice.

"Yeah, it was that bad." Frank sighed and squeezed Joe's shoulder. "So how did therapy go today?" he asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Well, if the goal is to make me end up feeling miserable and lower than pond scum, it went pretty well."

"Are you going to keep it up?" Frank asked hesitantly. He was well aware Joe had completed two therapy sessions simply because he promised Frank he would. Frank had been praying Joe would get enough out of them to want to continue on his own.

"Don't have much choice if I want to get out of this place," Joe replied, with contempt.

Frank's heart sank. If Joe continued with therapy because he felt like he had been forced into it and not because he wanted to, he wouldn't get much out of it at all.

"And I guess it might help…eventually," he added grudgingly. "Just don't tell Dad I said that. I'm not up for any of his _"I told you so."_ speeches."

Frank sighed inwardly, relieved Joe was at least willing to give therapy a chance. He was, however, very concerned about Joe's attitude towards their father.

"Can't you ease up on him just a little bit, Joe?" Frank pressed. "This is killing him too, you know."

"Then why did he lie to me, Frank?" Joe asked, heartbroken. "It was only a few weeks ago that he begged me to forgive him for thinking I really killed Taylor. He promised he'd always believe in me. Then I found out he's been lying to me for God knows how long. How am I ever supposed to trust him again?" Joe wiped at his eyes, hating the fact this subject could bring him to tears.

"He did exactly what the doctors told him to do, Joe. I'm not saying he was right or wrong. I'm just saying he didn't know what to do and trusted that the experts knew best. Don't hold it against Dad if they were wrong in this particular case. He didn't _want_ to lie to you, but he was told that was what he had to do."

"That doesn't make it hurt any less!" Joe cried out. "I thought I was losing my mind, Frank! I thought I was going crazy! Do you _get_ that? And he just stood by and let it happen! How could he watch me go through that without even trying to stop it? And then claim he still loves me?!" Unable to hold them back any longer, Joe finally broke down in tears. "_Damn it_," he cursed, wiping roughly at his eyes.

Sighing, Frank sat down on the bed next to Joe and rubbed his back reassuringly. "Joe, if you could have heard his voice the day he called and told me to come home…if you could have seen how devastated he was when you were first admitted here…if you could see the look in his eyes when he talks about the day he finally found you… well, there would be no doubt in your mind at all as to how much he really loves you."

Joe looked up at Frank, surprised at how candid he was.

"I know sometimes he seems to come down hard on you, but you're his baby, Joe. Always have been, always will be." Seeing he had Joe thinking maybe he had been just a little hard on their father, Frank decided to take a calculated risk. "I know I'm taking a chance telling you this, but I think you need to hear it. Just so you know what lengths Dad will go to for you."

His curiosity getting the better of him, Joe looked at his brother, intrigued. "What? Whatever it is stays between us."

"Promise?" Frank asked.

"Promise." Joe held up his right index finger. Frank laughed and pressed his finger against Joe's.

"Okay, but don't you dare tell Dad I told you this. Don't tell _anyone_."

"I won't, I won't," Joe replied impatiently.

"Tilghman taped everything he made those kids do," Frank said, soberly. "Even though Dad took you to the hospital and the doctors told him they hadn't touched you…" Frank swallowed hard, recalling the look on his fathers face when his mother had told him this story. "…he had to be absolutely sure. So, he got all the videos that were taken during the time Tilghman had you and watched them. If Tilghman had forced you to do anything other than watch, it would have been on the videos and Dad would have seen it."

Looking at Joe, Frank suddenly wondered if he had gone too far. Joe was white as a sheet.

"You mean Dad watched…he saw…" Joe could barely get the words out. "He saw the same things I saw? And he did it…_voluntarily_?"

"Mm-hmm," Frank nodded.

"Oh, my God…" Joe whispered. "I can't believe he would do that. Sit through that. Watch that. Just for me."

"Why wouldn't he?" Frank asked, somewhat surprised. "He loves you."

"Oh, God. The way I've been treating him. Oh, man, he'll never forgive me," Joe said, full of remorse at the things he'd said about, and to, his father.

"Of course he will, Joe," Frank smiled at him. "You're his baby. He'd let you get away with murder."

Joe groaned and then smiled. "That was bad, Frank. Really, really bad."

"Yeah, but at least it made you smile."

Suddenly, the door opened and Callie appeared in the doorway. Instead of coming in, she held the door open, giggling and throwing furtive glances up and down the hall.

"What's she doing?" Frank asked, puzzled.

"How do I know? She's your wife!" Joe replied, his curiosity now peaked.

"Hurry up!" Callie whispered loudly, furiously waving her arms. All of a sudden, Chet Morton and Liz Webling ran through the door of Joe's room, juggling paper bags in their arms, and quickly made their way into the bathroom, as if they were hiding from someone.

"Where's Vanessa?" Joe asked, wondering what was going on.

"She's the lookout!" Callie said as if Joe should have known.

"Lookout?" Frank repeated, now thoroughly confused.

"Now!" Callie whispered again.

This time Tony Prito, Biff Hooper and Phil Cohen raced through the door, each carrying three large pizza boxes, with Vanessa bringing up the rear. Vanessa pushed Tony, Biff and Phil towards the bathroom.

"Hurry up! Nurse Ratchet is coming!!" she laughed, joining them in the bathroom and pulling the door shut behind her.

The second the bathroom door closed, the door to the room opened once again and a stern looking, gray haired nurse entered. Hands on her hips, she stood surveying the room carefully. Unable to find anyone other than Frank, Joe and Callie in the room, she walked towards the closed bathroom door.

"My fiancé is in there!" Joe called out quickly.

The nurse turned and stared at him for a moment. "You know the rules. Only three visitors at a time," she said, sternly.

"Yes, ma'am. I know the rules. Only three visitors at a time," Joe repeated back to her.

With one last glance around the room, she left.

Clapping her hands gleefully like a child, Callie opened the bathroom door to release the 'captives' who were huddled inside.

"Man, that's a small bathroom!" Biff complained good-naturedly.

"I'll say," Chet seconded. "Let's get those pizza's opened, huh?"

Everyone began clearing tables, opening sodas and pizza boxes and distributing napkins and paper plates.

"Uh, excuse me," Joe spoke up. All movement stopped as all eyes turned to look at him. "Not that I don't appreciate the company, but what's going on?"

Vanessa bounced down on the bed beside him and impulsively kissed him. "It's a pizza party, silly!" she laughed.

"A pizza party in a psychiatric hospital?" Joe asked looking around at his friends.

"Yeah. Biff and Tony thought of it!"

Joe looked at his brother and grinned wryly. "It's probably the sanest thing I've done in the last two months. Let's eat!"


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: I'm not a CSI buff nor a ballistics expert so I'm not entirely sure what Con testifies to as far as gunpowder patterns in this chapter is really feasible. If not… hey we're in Hardy-land; I take liberties. Sue me. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! ;-)

LOOK! We made it!! :D I hope this final chapter meets with everyone's expectations. As an avid fanfic reader myself, I know it's pretty much impossible to read a story and NOT have an idea or a hope as to how you'd like to see it end. Here's hoping I did not disappoint anyone.

THANK YOU to **EVERYONE** who took the time to read this story. I do hope you enjoyed it. :-)

**Innocent**

**Chapter 31**

Joe sat on the edge of the bed waiting for his father to return to the room. Since Fenton was the one who had signed Joe in to the Campbell Center, he was the only one permitted to sign him out. Staring blankly at the wall in front of him, Joe tried to come up with just the right words to apologize to his father. Knowing what his father had done for him so many years ago had changed Joe's perspective dramatically. The fact that his father had watched all those videos, when he could have simply taken the doctors word for it that Joe had not been molested, made it abundantly clear to Joe how much his father really did love him. It also made him wonder why his father had simply chosen to take the abuse Joe had been dishing out the last few days without telling him about the past. Joe thought about the day when he and Vanessa would have children and prayed he could be half as good a father to his children as his father had been to him.

"All ready?" Fenton Hardy's voice broke through the thoughts weighing heavily on Joe's mind. Joe looked up to see his father smiling at him.

_'How can he even stand to look at me after the way I've treated him?'_ Joe thought with remorse and decided he wanted to do this now, before they left the hospital.

"Not quite. Can we talk for a minute, Dad?" Joe asked hopefully.

Fenton knew Joe was incredibly angry with him, for not telling him the truth as soon as the dreams had started. For refusing to sign Joe out of the hospital unless he agreed to outpatient therapy. He had wanted so badly to tell Joe how much therapy had helped him, but that would entail explaining the videos to Joe. Whenever he thought about doing that, all he could see was Joe sitting on the bathroom floor, lost in his own world of torture. Fenton was terrified of doing anything at all that might push Joe back to that point, no matter how slim the chance that it could happen again. He therefore chose to keep the dark secrets to himself rather than risk losing his son to that world of purgatory once more. Preparing himself for one of Joe's angry tirades, Fenton stood in front of his son and looked him in the eyes.

"Of course," Fenton forced a smile to his face.

Suddenly everything Joe had come up with to apologize to his father, all the words to express his guilt and remorse, caught in his throat. The tears he swore he would not cry rose to the surface and he was barely able to choke out the words he desperately needed to say. "I love you, Dad. And I'm sorry."

Fenton stared at Joe, shocked. He had expected a barrage of curses and angry words from his youngest son and didn't know quite how to react to this unexpected turn of events. He tentatively put a hand on Joe's shoulder, not knowing how his volatile son would interpret the gesture.

"You've been through hell, Joe. You don't have anything to apologize for."

"Yes, I do. I've treated you horribly. You've done nothing but try to love and protect me and I turned on you. God, Dad, I'm so sorry." Joe stared at his father with a look in his eyes that begged for forgiveness. "Can you forgive me?"

"Joe, you don't need to…"

"_Please_, Dad," Joe begged. "I _need_ to apologize. I need to know you still love me even after the way I treated you."

Hearing the pleading note in Joe's voice, Fenton swallowed the lump in his throat. He was finding it hard to believe that his son with the heart of gold, so quick to anger and even quicker to forgive could think, even for a second, he had done anything that required an apology. "I'll always love you, son. Nothing you could say or do will ever change that."

Joe nodded, thanking God for his father. The father he knew he would be turning to for comfort frequently in the coming months. The father who was the only one who could even begin to know what he was going through.

"I'm curious, though," Fenton asked tentatively. "Why the change in attitude?"

Staring at his father, Joe decided the lies, the half-truths, the dark secrets had to end now. _'Forgive me, bro.'_

"Frank told me about the videos," Joe said quietly.

Joe watched the color slowly drain from his father's face.

"He did _what_?" Fenton asked hoarsely.

"Please don't be mad at him, Dad," Joe said quickly, trying to repair the damage. _'Damn, why can't I do anything right!'_

"I'm glad he told me. But…why didn't _you_?" Joe asked cautiously, knowing he was treading on thin ice.

Fenton closed his eyes, attempting to keep his emotions under control through sheer willpower. _'Damn it, Frank! You were told that in confidence!'_ Fenton thought angrily, however the anger quickly gave way to guilt. _'Stop blaming him. He's been a better father to Joe than you have recently. He brought Joe back. He kept this family together when you were falling apart.' _

Opening his eyes, Fenton saw Joe staring back at him intently. '_Why didn't you tell him? It's a valid question. Why didn't you tell him everything right from the start? If you love him so much why did you stand by and let him think he was losing his mind when you could have prevented it.'_

"Never mind," Joe mumbled, assuming he'd gone too far. "Forget I said anything. Let's go."

Hopping off the bed, he started to reach for his overnight bag when he felt his father's arms encircle him, gently pulling him close. Joe could hear his father crying and as Fenton's arms tightened around him, Joe felt a flashback coming on fast. However, the unadulterated terror that seemed to accompany every single one of them was missing. Something was drastically different. Instead of the fear and pain that he normally suffered through, Joe felt…safe. Safe and protected. Exactly the same way he felt the day his father rescued him from Tilghman. The day Fenton had scooped Joe up into his arms and held his son as if he would never, ever let go.

"I'm sorry, Joe. I'm so, so sorry. You deserve so much better than what I've given you. I've handled all of this so badly. Thank God, your brother is a better father than I am."

Joe stood together with his father, enveloped in that feeling of safety, and didn't want to let go. Several minutes later, Fenton stepped back and dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. Joe waited until his father looked him in the eye.

"You're wrong, Dad. Frank is the best brother in the world. Lord knows I don't deserve him. But I've only got one father - and I wouldn't trade him for anything on earth."

"Thank you," Fenton whispered. It was only a few weeks earlier that Fenton had feared Joe wouldn't be able to forgive him for thinking Joe was capable of murder. When Joe did give him a second chance, Fenton had vowed never to do anything that could put their relationship in danger again, yet it didn't take long for him to break that vow. _'No more vows. No more promises I can't keep. Just the truth this time.'_

"I will do my best to never, ever let you down again, Joe," Fenton said solemnly.

"I know, Dad." Joe smiled at his father for the first time in weeks. "I think I'm ready to go home now."

Fenton put an arm around Joe's shoulders and father and son exited the hospital together.

oooOOOooo

Joe sat in the courtroom watching and listening as Andrew Worth began questioning Con Riley about the ballistics report he had ordered. As hard as he tried to pay attention, Joe's emotions were wreaking havoc inside him. He felt he couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds at a time. This was the final day of his trial. It had resumed the day after he had been released from the hospital. Andrew had spent the past few days presenting character witnesses for Joe. As soon as Andrew was done questioning Con, he would ask that Chris Taylor's journal, as well as numerous other items that had been found in the storage unit, officially be entered as evidence. After that, would come the closing arguments.

'_And then my entire future is in the hands of twelve complete strangers,'_ Joe thought fearfully.

He didn't realize how much he had been dreading this moment until now. He had tried to keep his spirits up since he had been released from the hospital, not wanting to burden his family with his fears and worries. But when he awoke this morning, he realized that although he was starting the day in his own bed, in his own home, with Vanessa by his side, he could conceivably end it all alone, on a hard cot, in a cold, cramped jail cell.

Andrew had told Joe he expected the jury to begin deliberations by late morning and felt certain they would reach a verdict quickly. With the new evidence Frank had uncovered, Andrew, and everyone else, felt the jury would be able to reach a unanimous not guilty verdict in short order. Everyone but Joe. The nightmares had come back with a vengeance last night and they continued to haunt him even now. Trying to push the terrifying images to the back of his mind, Joe focused on Con Riley who had just been sworn in on the witness stand.

"Detective Riley, can you tell the court exactly what the ballistics report revealed?" Andrew asked.

"According to the report, there was extensive gunpowder residue on Chris Taylor's hands."

"Could Mr. Taylor have gotten gunpowder residue on his hands if he had not been holding onto the gun when it was fired?"

"No."

"My client has stated that Mr. Taylor grabbed his hands, as he was holding the gun, and that Mr. Taylor discharged the weapon himself, essentially committing suicide. Did the gunpowder residue leave any noticeable pattern on his hands indicating whether he might have been trying to push the gun away, or pull it towards him?"

"Yes. The pattern on his hands would strongly indicate Mr. Taylor was trying to pull the gun towards himself, rather than push it away, when it was discharged."

Andrew turned towards the jury box, making eye contact with every single juror as he spoke.

"Given the findings in the ballistics report you ordered, do you believe Chris Taylor killed himself?"

"Yes, I do."

There were several low murmurs in the courtroom as Judge O'Donnell asked for order.

"No further questions your honor," Andrew said, returning to his seat.

After Dennis Seevers asked Con a few perfunctory questions during cross-examination, Andrew presented the journal and other items that had been uncovered in the storage unit. Closing arguments and Judge O'Donnell's instructions to the jury quickly followed and before Joe knew it, his fate was in their hands. As they filed out of the courtroom to begin their deliberations, Joe prayed.

oooOOOooo

Andrew had suggested the Hardys stay together, in one place, as he had a strong feeling the jury would reach a verdict before the day was out. Heeding his advice, Joe and his family gathered at his parent's house to wait. They had been home less than two hours and just finished eating lunch when Joe's cell phone rang. Conversation ceased as everyone watched Joe pull out his phone and check the caller ID. Frank saw fear flicker in his brother's eyes. Frank noticed Joe hesitated before answering and saw his hand shaking ever so slightly as Joe brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Joe answered. He listened and then paled.

"What? Already?" Joe swallowed hard. When he spoke again his voice was quiet and shaky. "Okay. We'll be right there. Bye."

Joe slowly returned the phone to his pocket. Staring at the table, he reached for Vanessa's hand, squeezing it tightly. Wordlessly, Vanessa reached out and pulled Joe to her. Joe rested his head on her shoulder, hiding his face in her hair. He didn't need to say a word. Everyone knew the caller was Andrew. The jury had reached a verdict.

"We better go," Fenton said quietly.

They all stood to leave except Joe and Vanessa. Frank started to say something to Joe when his father stopped him.

"Give them a few minutes," Fenton said, motioning towards the door.

With a backward glance at his brother, Frank followed his parents and Callie out the door.

…

Vanessa and Joe held each other tightly, neither one saying a word. Hard as he tried, Joe couldn't stop the "what if's" that had been hovering just below the surface all morning.

'_What if the ballistics report and the journal and all the character witnesses weren't enough? What if they still have doubts about me? What if they really think I'm guilty?'_

"I'm scared, Van," Joe finally whispered. "Really scared."

Vanessa held him tighter, understanding he needed her to be the strong one.

"I know, Baby," she said softly.

Joe pulled away just enough to look in her eyes, refusing to let her go completely. Vanessa felt her heart skip a beat. Fear, anxiety and desperation were the only things she saw reflected in his blue eyes.

"What if they've decided I'm…"

Vanessa put a finger to his lips.

"They didn't," she said with quiet confidence. "You're innocent. I know they believe that as much as I do. When we leave that courtroom today, we'll be going home together."

oooOOOooo

"Have you reached a verdict?" Judge O'Donnell addressed the foreman of the jury.

"We have, Your Honor," the middle-aged man replied.

"Would the defendant please rise," O'Donnell said, looking at Joe.

Joe stood, hoping his legs would support him. Would he really be leaving the courtroom with Vanessa? Or would he be handcuffed and transported to the state penitentiary, where he was certain he would be dead before the sun came up in the morning.

Suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The bailiff handed the judge a piece of paper he'd retrieved from the foreman. Judge O'Donnell read the verdict, his face remaining neutral, giving Joe no idea of what his fate would be. Folding the paper, O'Donnell returned it to the bailiff, who in turn gave it back to the foreman. The foreman stood and unfolded the piece of paper. Joe held his breath and said a final prayer as the man began to speak.

"On the charge of murder in the second degree, we the jury, find the defendant, Joseph Paul Hardy, not guilty."

Joe felt his knees buckle and was absolutely certain the only reason he didn't collapse was because Andrew had, at some point, taken hold of his arm. He closed his eyes and leaned against the table becoming aware of the rising voices around him. Apparently, everybody had an opinion on the verdict and wanted to express it. Judge O'Donnell banged his gavel and gradually the voices died out.

"Mr. Hardy," Judge O'Donnell said.

Joe looked at the judge and, for the very first time, he saw O'Donnell smile.

"You are free to go."

As the judge left the courtroom chaos reigned. Joe turned towards Andrew wondering how he could ever begin to thank him when he was suddenly knocked backwards against the table. Arms encircled his neck and he inhaled the familiar scent he loved so much. He wrapped his arms around Vanessa's waist and held her tightly, never wanting to let go.

Frank had quickly followed Vanessa when she ran to the front of the courtroom and threw herself on Joe. Callie, Laura, Fenton and all Frank and Joe's friends were not far behind. Frank now stood clutching Callie's hand, watching his younger brother and his fiancé who were completely oblivious to the crowd of people around them. He smiled and finally relaxed for the first time in almost two months. Joe and Vanessa obviously still had a very long road ahead of them in terms of mentally recovering from this whole ordeal. That road wouldn't always be smooth but now they had something they weren't sure of just five short minutes ago…a future together.

As Frank waited patiently to congratulate his brother, he noticed an elderly couple that hadn't missed a day of the trial. They were walking slowly, allowing Frank to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"What a waste of taxpayer's money," the woman said, shaking her head. Looking up, she noticed Frank watching her. To his utter surprise, she winked at him, and continued speaking. "Of course he's not guilty. He's a Hardy. Everyone knows a Hardy could never commit _murder_!"

oooOOOooo

Several hours later, Joe stood in the living room of his parents' home, feeling incredibly lucky. Laura and Fenton's home had become the site of an impromptu celebration that included friends, family and acquaintances that had helped in Joe's defense. Watching as Phil Cohen made his way through the crowd of people and out into the hall, Joe quickly followed him.

"Phil, can I talk to you for a minute?" Joe asked.

"Sure," Phil smiled.

"I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me. I'll never be able to repay you."

"Joe, I'm not looking for any kind of repayment. You're a friend. A very good friend who was in trouble. You've done the same for me in the past and I know if I ever need you in the future, all I have to do is call."

"Thanks. And for offering Vanessa that job. She's so excited she's bouncing off the walls." Joe smiled. "I was really starting to worry about how the stress of looking for a new job was going to affect her. We both owe you a lot. And most of all I owe you an apology. If you hadn't been there to help Frank, I'd probably be in prison right now. And I gave you nothing but grief. I'm sorry, Phil."

"Extenuating circumstances. Don't give it a second thought," Phil said breezily.

"Thanks, Phil," Joe replied gratefully then turned and walked back to the living room.

Standing in the doorway, Joe watched his older brother who was standing across the room speaking to Con Riley and a few other officers from the Bayport police department. A moment later, sensing he was being watched, Frank slowly scanned the room until his eyes rested on Joe.

'_Thanks,'_ Joe mouthed to Frank.

Frank smiled at his younger brother and held up his right index finger. Returning the smile, Joe held up his finger.

'_Blood brothers,'_ he thought, feeling truly blessed. _'Forever.'_

THE END

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THANK YOU to Cheryl, Phx, TraSan, Helen, Alicia, Lina, Polaris '05, Calathiel, Twisp, josie, MissMe113, Miss Fenway, pally, Shinigamixgirl (and if I missed anyone, I apologize!!), for your wonderful, supportive comments throughout this story! :-) I know it's a lot easier _not_ to review, sadly I'm guilty of it myself at times, so the fact that you took the time to let me know what you thought, was appreciated more than you know. Ditto to those who reviewed anonymously – I appreciated hearing what you thought! And I hope everyone who read the story got some enjoyment out of it. Thanks for allowing me to share my version of the Hardys world with you.

Next up… _Trust_. ;-)


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